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Love will make our cottage pleasant,
See the lordly castles stand:
Hears him lovingly converse,
Lay betwixt his home and hers; Parks with oak and chestnut shady,
Parks and ordered gardens great, Ancient homes of lord and lady,
Built for pleasure and for state.
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;
Bows before him at the door.
And, while now she wonders blindly,
Her sweet face from brow to chin: As it were with shame she blushes,
And her spirit changed within. Then her countenance all over
Pale again as death did prove : But he clasped her like a lover,
And he cheered her soul with love. So she strove against her weakness, Though at times her spirit sank: Shaped her heart with woman's meekness To all duties of her rank: And a gentle consort made he, And her gentle mind was such That she grew a noble lady,
And the people loved her much. But a trouble weighed upon her,
And perplexed her, night and morn, With the burthen of an honor
Unto which she was not born. Faint she grew, and ever fainter,
As she murmured, “O, that he Were once more that landscape-painter, Which did win my heart from me!" So she drooped and drooped before him, Fading slowly from his side: Three fair children first she bore him, Then before her time she died. Weeping, weeping late and early, Walking up and pacing down,
SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE.
Deeply mourned the Lord of Burleigh,
And he looked at her and said,
That she wore when she was wed."
Bore to earth her body, drest
SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINE
LIKE souls that balance joy and pain,
In crystal vapor everywhere
Sometimes the linnet piped his song:
Then, in the boyhood of the year,
She seemed a part of joyous Spring:
Now on some twisted ivy-net,
And fleeter now she skimmed the plains Than she whose elfin prancer springs By night to eery warblings, When all the glimmering moorland rings With jingling bridle-reins.
As she fled fast through sun and shade,
The rein with dainty finger-tips,
FLOW down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
No more by thee my steps, shall be,
Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea
But here will sigh thine alder tree
A thousand suns will stream on thee,
THE BEGGAR MAID.
HER arms across her breast she laid;
In robe and crown the king stept down,
"She is more beautiful than day."
As shines the moon in clouded skies,
One her dark hair and lovesome mien. So sweet a face, such angel grace,
In all that land had never been: Cophetua sware a royal oath:
This beggar maid shall be my queen!”