Chapter 3

"I leave my child to Heaven." And with these words Upon her lips, the Lady Mildred passed Unto the rest prepared for her pure soul; Words that meant only this: I cannot trust Unto her earthly parent my young child, So leave her to her heavenly Father's care; And Heaven was gentle to the motherless, And fair and sweet the maiden, Gladys, grew, A pure white rose in the old castle set, The while her father rioted abroad.

But as the day drew near when he should give, By his dead lady's will, his child her own, He having basely squandered all her wealth To him intrusted, to his land returned, And thrilled her trusting heart with terrors vague, Of peril, of some shame to come to him, Did she not yield unto his prayer--command, That she would to Our Lady's convent go, Forget the world and save him from disgrace.

But hidden as she had been all her life From tender human ties, she loved the world With all her loving heart, the fresh, free world That God had made, and this life seemed to her As but a living death. A living tomb The harsh stone walls that from the convent frowned Upon the peaceful valley sweet with flowers. The beautiful green valley, threaded by Bright rivulets that sought the quiet lake, Dear haunts sought daily by her maiden feet. And "wilt thou not, for my sake?" and "thou shalt To save thy sire from shame!" so wore the days, And still she did not promise, though she wept At his wild pleadings, trembled at his rage; Then of her mother's dying words he thought-- Her dying words--"I leave my child to Heaven." And twisting them with his own wishes, wove A chain therewith that bound her wavering will; A chain made mighty by the golden threads Of rev'rence and of holy memories. And so with heavy heart she gave her vow, That in the autumn she would leave the world, But first for one free summer did she pray.

And through those bright spring days she roamed abroad, And poured upon the winds her low complaints; The while her dark soft eyes sought all the earth, The beauteous earth that she too soon must leave; And all her mournful murmurs ended thus With this sad cry of, "Oh, the happy world!" Ended with these low words as a sigh, I will obey, but, "oh, the happy world!"

Oh, wondrous beauty of the morning skies! Oh, wide green fields with beady dew impearled! The lark soars upward, singing as she flies, Oh, wave of free, swift wings, oh, happy world!

Oh, wordless wonder of the evening sky, Far ivory citadels with flags unfurled; Deep sapphire seas where rosy fleets float by The golden shores remote; oh, happy world!

Oh, my blue violets by the laughing brook! My shy, sweet darlings, in your green leaves curled, Bright eyes, sometime you will all vainly look For me, your lover. Oh, the happy world!

So passed the days of spring, and she must sign Dull papers to appease the hungry law, And to the castle down a writer came; No graybeard old, and dryer than his tomes, A tall, fair-faced youth, with bright, bold gaze, And blood that leaped afresh like crimson wine, Rash blood that led him to leap o'er a gate Five-barred, within the mossy park, upon The knight's old stumbling steed that played him false To its own harm, for which it lost its life, More fortunate the youth, though bruised he, And bleeding from his many grievous wounds, And Gladys tended him with gentlest care Till love crept in and took the place of pain, And in her heart took Pity's weeping place And dwelt a king. He knew she was the bride Of Heaven, not to be vexed with earthly love, But yet, upon the last night of his stay, As by the lake's low marge he met the maid, And saw her soft eyes fall before his own, He laid an almond blossom in her hand, A blossom that both sweet and bitter is, And said but this, "Say, is dear love a dream?"

"Nay, not a dream," she murmured, looking out To where the light upon the waters lay, A golden pathway leading to the sun, "Dear love the wakening is, this life we live Is but a dream." Then with a sudden hope He would have caught her hands, but no, she clasped Them o'er the snowy muslin on her breast, And on her heart like drops of crimson blood, There lay the almond blossoms, bitter, sweet; And far away her pure eyes looked adown That shining path across the summer sea, "Nay, life a long dream is, a sleep that lasts Until we waken in the land of love." But though thus calmly did she speak to him, When he had gone to hide his breaking heart As best he might, to bravely bide his time, And do his life work as she bade him do, Then all her lonely haunts echoed this cry, This cry of deeper anguish--"Oh, my heart!"

Why did I pray for one more summer bright, The outward world but held me in time past; Now, life and love have added links of might, A chain that fetters me, that holds me fast; I will, I will obey, but oh, my heart!

My life was like some little mountain spring By slight waves stirred till some deep overflow Swift breaks its peace, then with its risen king Down to the mighty deep it needs must go; Thus did I follow love, but oh, my heart!

For dear love sought me, claimed me for his own, And called me with his voice so strong, so low, I followed unto bliss, thou hapless one, I did bethink me of my cruel vow, The vow I will obey, but oh, my heart!

And through the long, still nights this cry was hers, As on her couch she lay till dreary dawn, Her large eyes dark with horror looking out Upon the pitchy darkness unafraid. And as the breathings of the new spring breeze, Soft sights of sad complaint, to autumn's storms That hold the burdened sorrow of a year, Was this, her sigh of, "oh, the happy world!" To this despairing cry of, "oh, my heart!" And as the year's late winds leave pale and chill The earth, so did this weary cry of hers So oft repeated leave her lips like snow. And oft the lonely midnight heard her moan Of hopes foregone, that women hold most dear.

"No little ones to ever cling to me In closest love, look on me through his eyes And call me mother, bless me with his smile." Then low in tearful prayer her voice would sound Despairing, wailing, through the lonely room, The silent turret chamber steep and high, "Thou maiden mother, Mary, knows my heart, Thou who didst love and suffer, look on me, Oh, pity me, sweet mother of the Christ!"

Then would the passion of her woe die out In dreary calm, and as a chidden child Who cries himself to rest, sobs in his sleep, So pitifully would sound the latest words-- "I will, I will be patient, and obey." But all the long days' silent anguish, all These secret trysts she kept alone with pain Wore her meek face, till like a spirit's looked It, gleaming white from out her shadowy hair, And so the last day came, the day of doom, The dreaded day when she should leave the world.

But He who holdeth little useless birds In His protecting care, looked tenderly Upon this patient soul, so sorely tried. This sweet soul purified by all its pain, For on this day, so fair a morn, it seemed A heavenly peace sunk down to this sad earth From gate ajar, the bright and pearly gate Swung widely open for an angel guest. A faithful servant climbed the winding stair, Sent by her eager father with the dawn To rouse her, tell her that the hour had come When she to save his name should leave the world. And as the woman stood beside the couch She said, "Sweet soul, she talks out in her sleep." For there she lay with closed eyes murmuring low, With mournful brow and sad lips, "oh, dear love." Then cried out with a sob, "'tis not a dream." Then spake of blood-red blossoms, bitter, sweet, And with her white lips sighing this, she sunk Into what seemed to be a dreamless sleep.

And as the loving servant weeping stood, Loath to awake her to her evil doom, She opened her large violet eyes, and gazed Upon the morning sunlight stealing in; The clear light trembling, growing on the wall, And as she looked, her eyes grew like the eyes Of blessed angels looking on their Lord. And high toward Heaven she lifted up her hands, Then clasped them in content upon her breast, And cried out in a glad voice, "oh, my heart!" And with such glory lighting up her face, As if the flood of joy had filled her heart, And overrun her lips with blissful smiles She left the world, and saved her sire from shame.

FAREWELL.

Lift up your brown eyes, darling, Not timidly and shy, As in the fair, lost past, not thus I'd have you meet my eye. But grave, and calm, and earnest, Thus bravely should we part, Not sorrowfully, not lightly, And so farewell, dear heart.

Yes, fare thee well, farewell, Whate'er shall me betide May gentlest angels comfort thee, And peace with thee abide; Our love was but a stormy love, 'Tis your will we should part-- So smile upon me once, darling, And then farewell, dear heart.

But lay your hand once on my brow, Set like a saintly crown, It will shield me, it will help me To hurl temptations down. God give thee better love than mine-- Nay, dear, no tears must start, See, I am quiet, thou must be, And now farewell, dear heart.

THE KNIGHT OF NORMANDY.

Clear shone the moon, my mansion walls Towered white above the wood, Near, down the dark oak avenue An humble cottage stood.

My gardener's cottage, small and brown, Yet precious unto me; For there she dwelt, who sat by me That night beside the sea.

So sweet, the white rose on her neck Was not more fair than she, As silently her soft brown eyes Looked outward o'er the sea.

So still, the muslin o'er her heart Seemed with no breath to stir, As silently she sat and heard The tale I told to her.

"It was a knight of Normandy, He vowed on his good sword He would not wed his father's choice, The Lady Hildegarde.

"Near dwelt the beauteous Edith, A lowly maiden she--" Ah! still unmoved, her dark sweet eyes Looked far away from me.

"Dearer to him one blossom small That had but touched her hand, Than all the high-born beauties-- The ladies of the land.

"Dearer to him," quick came my breath As I looked down on her, But the white roses in her hand No lightest leaf did stir.

Ah! wistfully I read her face, Full gently did I speak, No light dawned in her tender eye, No flush stole o'er her cheek.

"He wore her colors on the field, He went where brave hearts were; Ah, gallantly and nobly He fought for love of her.

"He loved her with his whole true heart," Now like a sudden flame Up to her cheek so pure and white, A flood of crimson came.

Her hands unclasped, down to her feet My flowers unnoticed shook; I leaned and followed with my gaze Her glad and eager look.

I saw a boat sweep round the rock, Rowed with a steady grace; I saw the fisher's manly form, His brown and handsome face.

"For love of her, to victory He his brave squadron led, Then broke his true heart, and her scarf Pillowed his dying head.

"So died this knight of Normandy, Died with his sword unstained;" I know not that she heard my words, So near the boat had gained.

I said, Heaven bless her, in my heart, She had no thought for me; I turned away and left them there Beside the beating sea.

Behind me lay the sweet moonlight, My shadow went before, And passed a dark and gloomy shape Before me through the door.

Oh strange and sad this life of ours, This life beneath the sun; O sad and strange and full of pain God help us, every one.

God help us, that we may endure Like him of Normandy; And die with sword unstained, that has Led us to victory.

SOMETIME.

On the shore I sit and gaze Out on the twilight sea, For my ship may come, though many days I have waited patiently; With waiting trusting eyes, A lonely watch I keep For its silver sails to rise Like a blossom out of the deep.

It is built of a costly wood, Bearing the strange perfume Of the gorgeous solitude, Where it grew in tropical gloom; And the odorous scent, the spicy balm Of its isle it will bear to me, As I stand on the shore, in the magic calm. And my ship come in from sea.

It is laden with all that is sweet Of the beauty of every clime; Slowly and proudly 'twill glide to my feet In the eve of that fair "Sometime," Before me its sails will be furled, A princess I shall be, Crowned with the wealth of the world, When my ship comes in from sea.

Sweet faces I then shall see, Tender, undoubting, true, Soft hands will be stretched to me With a welcome I never knew; In the peace of such tenderness I shall rest forevermore, And weep in my perfect bliss, As I never wept before.

Sometimes I think it is not far And I bend my head and list, For I think I see a slender spar Gleam through the golden mist; And I fancy I hear the sound Of wind in a silken sail, And an odor rare from Eastern ground, Floats in on the languid gale.

But I sit and watch the west Till the sun goes down, in vain; It was only a cloud with an ivory crest, A cloud of vapor and rain; It rises and hides the sea, And my heart grows chill and numb, Lest this terrible thing should be, That my ship will never come.

But the morn is bright--the wave Is a golden and shining track, Softly the waters the white sands lave, And my trusting faith comes back; Oh, all that I ever lost, And all that I long to be, Will be mine when the deep is crossed, And my ship comes home from sea.

MOTIVES.

I said that I would see Her once, to curse her fair, deceitful grace, To curse her for my life-long agony; But when I saw her face, I said, "Sweet Christ, forgive both her and me."

High swelled the chanted hymn, Low on the marble swept the velvet pall, I bent above, and my eyes grew dim, My sad heart saw it all-- She loved me, loved me though she wedded him.

And then shot through my soul A thrill of fierce delight, to think that he Must yield her form, his all, to Death's control, The while her love for me Would live, when sun and stars had ceased to roll.

But no, on the white brow, Graved in its marble, was deep calm impressed, Saying that peace had come to her through woe; Saying, she had found rest At last, and I, I must not love her now.

It may be in Heaven's grace, Beneath the shade of some immortal palm, That God will let me see her angel face; Then wild, wild heart be calm, Wipe out that old love, every sorrowful trace.

I know that if it be, We two should meet again in Paradise, 'Twould trouble her pure soul if she should see The old grief in my eyes; 'Twould grieve her dear heart through eternity.

Wipe out that grief, my soul, And shall I lose all love, in losing this? Unclasp my spirit, self's close stolid stole. Are there no lives to bless? So will I give my love, my life, no stinted dole.

God will note deeds and sighs, Throned in far splendor on the heavenly hill, Though mad sounds from this wretched planet rise-- Moans wild enough to fill Heaven's air, and drown its harps in doleful cries.

And angels shall look down, Through incense rising from my godly deeds. Approving gleam those eyes of tender brown; Sure on a brow that bleeds, The thorns should change to a more glorious crown.

Well done, my soul, well done, Out of thy grief to rear a ladder tall To reach the land that lies beyond the sun, To scale the jasper wall, And rise to glory on grief's stepping stone.

God looks into the tide, Angel and demon troubled, of a man's mind; And if my alms are scattered far and wide, Only my love to find, Only to pave a path to reach her side--

Will he accept from me My worship, gifts--the heavens are very still, No answer do I hear, no sign I see, If I but knew His will; Would He would come a-walking on the sea.

* * * * *

The storm is overpast, for sweet and fair A sudden radiance shone o'er wave and lea; And in the glory trembling through the air, He came unto me walking on the sea.

The heavy waves that had rushed to and fro Cowered at His feet in sudden melody; And all transfigured in the shining glow Did He come to me walking on the sea.

Far off I saw His form, but knew it not; He nearer drew, He smiled, my fears did flee; His loving look dispelled a lingering doubt, As He came to me o'er the twilight sea.

I dropped my burden on the shelving sand So I might meet Him, if such bliss could be, I reached the shore, I knelt and kissed His hand With blissful tears beside the twilight sea.

Such love He woke, I would my life have lain Low down to pave His way, "He loveth me Who loveth this sad world, and blesseth man," Came blown to me across the twilight sea.

Perplexing questions died within my breast, "Deep peace hath he who doeth lovingly My will, who loveth most, he loveth best," Came blown to me across the twilight sea.

The storm was overpast, a breath of balm Lapped the low waves, and lingered on the lea, For in the twilight fell a holy calm, He came unto me walking on the sea.

* * * * *

Was this a dream? If it were not a dream My life is blest in truth, and if it be, I know across the deep has fallen a gleam, A bridge of glory spans the twilight sea.

NIGHTFALL.

Soft o'er the meadow, and murmuring mere, Falleth a shadow, near and more near; Day like a white dove floats down the sky, Cometh the night, love, darkness is nigh; So dies the happiest day.

Slow in thy dark eye riseth a tear, Hear I thy sad sigh, Sorrow is near; Hope smiling bright, love, dies on my breast, As day like a white dove flies down the west; So dies the happiest day.

HIS PLACE.

So all things come to our mind at last, He is close by your side in the twilight gloom, And you two are alone in the dim old room, Yet he is mute, as you bade him be, time past.

You bade him to weary you, never again With his idle love, in truth he was wise, For he spake no more, although in his eyes You read, you fancied, a language of pain.

But this is past, and vex you he never will, With loving glance, or look of sad reproach; His lips move not, smile not at your approach; The flowers he clasps are not more calm and still.

Your favorite flowers he has heard you praise, Purple pansies, and lilies creamy white; But he offers them not to you to-night, He troubles you not, he has learned "his place."

You wished to teach him that lesson, you told Him as much, you know, in this very room, 'Twas about this hour, for the twilight gloom As now, was enwrapping you, fold on fold.

Was "his place" in the haunts of the herded poor, Where the pestilence stalked with deadly breath? Face to face with its dreadful shadow, death, How he wrestled with it from door to door,

Giving his life that others life might find, Shaming you with his toil, his bravery, Not by a word or look, no boaster he, He was always gentle to you, and kind.

He has found "his place," but no need of fears, No; you need not summon your jealous pride, For "his place" will never be by your side, Nevermore, nevermore, through all the years.

And when from Time shall drop Earth's days Like chaff from the bloom of the year sublime, With the gentle spirits of every time, And the martyr souls, he will find his place.

So answers will come to our seeking wills, Nevermore will his sad face vex your sight, For you never will make your robes so white As to stand by him on the heavenly hills.

Yes, lay your cheek upon his, and press The clustering hair from his broad white brow, Have no fear, he will not annoy you now By a word in praise of your loveliness.

Yes, kneel by him, moaning, kissing his brow, Not now will it grieve him, your tears' swift rain, And he will not ask you to share your pain; Ah! Once he would, but not now--not now.

So leave the old room in the waning light, Go out in your peerless beauty and pride, And let no shadow go out by your side To follow you under the falling night.

A DREAM OF SPRING.

The world is asleep! All hushed is Nature's warm, sweet breath. The world is asleep, and dreaming the silent dream of snow, But through the silence that seems like the silence of death, Under their shroud of ermine, the souls of the roses glow.

And forever the heart of the water throbs and beats, Though bound by a million gleaming fetters and crystal rings, No sound on lonesome mornings the lonely watcher greets, But the frosty pane is impressed with the shadow of coming wings.

WAITING.

I know not where you wait for me in all your maiden sweetness, Sweet soul in whom my life will find its rest, its full completeness; But somewhere you await me, Fate will lead us to each other, As roses know the sunlight, so shall we know one another.

Dear heart, what are you doing in this twilight's purple splendor, Do you tend your dewy flowers with fingers white and slender, Heavy, odor-laden branches in blessing bent above you, Fond lilies kneeling at your feet, winds murmuring they love you?

Mayhap, your heart in maiden peace is like a closed bud sleeping, Wrapped in pure folds of saintly thought, its tender freshness keeping. Yet like a dream that comes in sleep, your soul sweet quiet breaking, Is a thought of me, my darling, that shall come true on waking.

Perchance you turn from passionate vows, words wild with love's sweet madness, With soft eyes looking far sway, in yearning trust and sadness; A look that tells his alien soul how widely you are parted, Though he knows not whom your rapt eyes seek, my sweet, my loving-hearted.

Oh, the world is rough; the heart against its sneers, its cold derision, Locks all its better feelings, making it a gloomy prison; But your hand, my angel, shall unlock its rocky, dust-strewn portal, Your smile shall rouse its dying dreams of good to life immortal.

You will make me better, purer, for love, the true refiner, Burning out the baser passions, will kindle the diviner, Will plead and wind my spirit, not to shame its heavenly station, You will trust me, and that trust will prove my tempted soul's salvation.

God keep you tenderly, my life's dear hope and unseen blessing; Oh, night wind, touch her tresses till I come with fond caressing, Thy crown of pearl-linked light, oh, royal moon stoop down and give her, Till queen of love's own kingdom, I crown her mine forever.

A SONG FOR TWILIGHT.

Oh! the day was dark and dreary, For clouds swept o'er the sun, The burden of life seemed heavy, And its warfare never done; But I heard a voice at twilight, It whispered in my ear, "Oh, doubting heart, look upward, Dear soul, be of good cheer. Oh, weary heart, look upward, Dear soul, be of good cheer."

And lo! on looking upward The stars lit up the sky Like the lights of an endless city, A city set on high. And my heart forgot its sorrow These heavenly homes to see-- Sure in those many mansions Is room for even me, Sure in those many mansions, Is room for thee and me.

THE FLIGHT.

Here in the silent doorway let me linger One moment, for the porch is still and lonely; That shadow's but the rose vine in the moonlight; All are asleep in peace, I waken only, And he I wait, by my own heart's beating I know how slow to him the tide creeps by, Nor life, nor death, could bar our hearts from meeting; Were worlds between, his soul to mine would fly.

Oh, shame! to think a heap of paltry metal Should overbalance manhood's noblest graces; A film of gold had gilt his worth and honor, Warming to smiles the coldness of their faces; Gentle to me, they rise in condemnation, And plead with me than words more powerfully. Oh! well I love them--but they have wealth and station To fill their hearts, and he has only me.