Each turned above a face of love, V. There journeyed by a bridal pomp, VI. A little child with inward song, Stood near the wall to see at play The lizards green and rare— Unblessed the while for his childish smile PART THE FOURTH. SHOWING HOW ROSALIND FARED BY THE KEEPING OF THE VOW. I. IN death-sheets lieth Rosalind, As white and still as they; And the old nurse that watched her bed, Rose up with "Well-a-day!" And oped the casement to let in The sun, and that sweet doubtful din II. The old nurse started when she saw Her sudden look of woe! But the quick wan tremblings round her mouth In a meek smile did go; And calm she said, "When I am dead, Dear nurse, it shall be so. III. "Till then, shut out those sights and sounds, IV. The loving nurse leant over her, V. "When all this feeble breath is done, My tresses smoothed, for never a feast, As if that still I prayed. VI. "And heap beneath mine head the flowers You stoop so low to pull; The little white flowers from the wood, Which grow there in the cool; VII. "Weep not! I weep not. Death is strong, The eyes of Death are dry; But lay this scroll upon my breast When hushed its heavings lie; And wait awhile for the corpse's smile VIII. "And when it shineth, straightway call All barefaced on the bier- IX. "And up the bank where I used to sit O'er the windy hill, through the forest still, X. "And through the piney forest still, XI. "And when withal they near the hall, In silence let them lay My bier before the bolted door, For I have vowed, though I am proud, And not be turned away.” XII. The old nurse looked within her eyes, "Alack! alack!"-she watched no more- PART THE FIFTH. SHOWING HOW THE VOW WAS BROKEN. I. THE poet oped his bolted door, The midnight sky to view; A spirit-feel was in the air Which seemed to touch his spirit bare Their falling with the dew. II. They shine upon the stedfast hills, And the murmuring pebbles pied; III. It lay before him, humanlike, More awful in its shrouded pomp IV. A heavier weight than of its clay And then o'erhung, without a groan, THE WORDS OF ROSALIND'S SCROLL. "I LEFT thee last, a child at heart. "Look on me with thine own calm lookI meet it calm as thou! No look of thine can change this smile, I tell thee that my poor scorned heart "But out, alas! these words are writ By a living, loving one, Adown whose cheeks, the proofs of life, The warm, quick tears do run. |