I trow they did not part in scorn:
Lovers long-betroth'd were they :
They two will wed the morrow morn;
God's blessing on the day!

"He does not love me for my birth,
Nor for my lands so broad and fair;
He loves me for my own true worth,
And that is well," said Lady Clare.

In there came old Alice the nurse,

Said, "Who was this that went from thee?" "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare, "To-morrow he weds with me."

"O God be thank'd!" said Alice the nurse, "That all comes round so just and fair : Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands,

And you are not the Lady Clare."

"Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?"
Said Lady Clare, " that ye speak so wild?"
"As God's above," said Alice the nurse,
"I speak the truth: you are my child.

"The old Earl's daughter died at my breast;
I speak the truth, as I live by bread!
I buried her like my own sweet child,
And put my child in her stead."

'Falsely, falsely have ye done,

O mother," she said, "if this be true,
To keep the best man under the sun
So many years from his due.”

'Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
"But keep the secret for your life,
And all you have will be Lord Ronald's,
When you are man and wife."

"If I'm a beggar born," she said,

'I will speak out, for I dare not lie.

Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold,

And fling the diamond necklace by."

Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
"But keep the secret all ye can."

She said, "Not so: but I will know
If there be any faith in man."

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Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse, "The man will cleave unto his right." "And he shall have it," the lady replied, Tho' I should die to-night."

"Yet give one kiss to your mother dear! Alas, my child, I sinn'd for thee."

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O mother, mother, mother," she said,
So strange it seems to me.

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"Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear,
My mother dear, if this be so,
And lay your hand upon my head,
And bless me, mother, ere I go."

She clad herself in a russet gown,
She was no longer Lady Clare:
She went by dale, and she went by down,
With a single rose in her hair.

The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought
Leapt up from where she lay,
Dropt her head in the maiden's hand,
And follow'd her all the way.

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower:
"O Lady Clare, you shame your worth!
Why come you drest like a village maid,
That are the flower of the earth?"

If I come drest like a village maid,
I am but as my fortunes are:

I am a beggar born," she said,

'Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, "For I am yours in word and in deed. Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, Your riddle is hard to read."

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O and proudly stood she up!

Her heart within her did not fail : She look'd into Lord Ronald's eyes, And told him all her nurse's tale.

He laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn:

He turn'd, and kiss'd her where she stood

"If you are not the heiress born,

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And I," said he, the next in blood

"If you are not the heiress born,
And I," said he, "the lawful heir,
We two will wed to-morrow morn,
And you shall still be Lady Clare."

LXXXVII

THE CAPTAIN

A LEGEND OF THE NAVY

He that only rules by terror
Doeth grievous wrong.

Deep as Hell I count his error.
Let him hear my song.

Brave the Captain was: the seamen
Made a gallant crew,
Gallant sons of English freemen,
Sailors bold and true.
But they hated his oppression,
Stern he was and rash ;
So for every light transgression
Doom'd them to the lash.
Day by day more harsh and cruel
Seem'd the Captain's mood.
Secret wrath like smother'd fuel
Burnt in each man's blood.
Yet he hoped to purchase glory,
Hoped to make the name
Of his vessel great in story,
Wheresoe'er he came.

So they past by capes and islands,
Many a harbour-mouth,

Sailing under palmy highlands
Far within the South.

On a day when they were going
O'er the lone expanse,

In the north, her canvas flowing,
Rose a ship of France.
Then the Captain's colour heighten'd,

Joyful came his speech:

But a cloudy gladness lighten'd

In the eyes of each.

Chase," he said: the ship flew forward,
And the wind did blow;

Stately, lightly, went she Norward,

Till she near'd the foe.

Then they look'd at him they hated,
Had what they desired:

Mute with folded arms they waited—
Not a gun was fired.

But they heard the foeman's thunder
Roaring out their doom;

All the air was torn in sunder,
Crashing went the boom,

Spars were splinter'd, decks were shatter'd,
Bullets fell like rain;

Over mast and deck were scatter'd
Blood and brains of men.

Spars were splinter'd; decks were broken :
Every mother's son-

Down they dropt-no word was spoken-
Each beside his gun.

On the decks as they were lying,
Were their faces grim.

In their blood, as they lay dying,
Did they smile on him.

Those, in whom he had reliance
For his noble name,

With one smile of still defiance
Sold him unto shame.

Shame and wrath his heart confounded,
Pale he turn'd and red,

Till himself was deadly wounded
Falling on the dead.

Dismal error! fearful slaughter!

Years have wander'd by,
Side by side beneath the water
Crew and Captain lie;

There the sunlit ocean tosses
O'er them mouldering,

And the lonely seabird crosses
With one waft of the wing.

LXXXVIII

THE LORD OF BURLEIGH

IN her ear he whispers gaily,

"If my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily, And I think thou lov'st me well."

She replies, in accents fainter,
"There is none I love like thee."
He is but a landscape-painter,
And a village maiden she.

He to lips, that fondly falter,

Presses his without reproof:
Leads her to the village altar,
And they leave her father's roof.
I can make no marriage present;
Little can I give my wife.

Love will make our cottage pleasant,
And I love thee more than life."
They by parks and lodges going
See the lordly castles stand:
Summer woods, about them blowing,
Made a murmur in the land.
From deep thought himself he rouses,
Says to her that loves him well,
"Let us see these handsome houses
Where the wealthy nobles dwell."
So she goes by him attended,

Hears him lovingly converse,
Sees whatever fair and splendid
Lay betwixt his home and hers;
Parks with oak and chestnut shady,
Parks and order'd gardens great,
Ancient homes of lord and lady,
Built for pleasure and for state.
All he shows her makes him dearer :
Evermore she seems to gaze
On that cottage growing nearer,

Where they twain will spend their days. O but she will love him truly!

He shall have a cheerful home;

She will order all things duly,

When beneath his roof they come.
Thus her heart rejoices greatly,
Till a gateway she discerns
With armorial bearings stately,
And beneath the gate she turns;
Sees a mansion more majestic
Than all those she saw before:
Many a gallant gay domestic

Bows before him at the door.
And they speak in gentle murmur,
When they answer to his call,
While he treads with footsteps firmer,
Leading on from hall to hall.
And, while now she wonders blindly,
Nor the meaning can divine,
Proudly turns he round and kindly,
"All of this is mine and thine."