| |
| THE MARRIAGE blessing on their brows, | |
| Across the Channel seas | |
| And lands of gay Garonne, they reach | |
| The pleasant Pyrenees,— | |
| He into boyhood born again, | 5 |
| A son of joy and life; | |
| And she a happy English girl, | |
| A happier English wife. | |
| |
| They loiter not where Argelés, | |
| The chestnut-crested plain, | 10 |
| Unfolds its robe of green and gold | |
| In pasture, grape, and grain; | |
| But on and up, where Nature’s heart | |
| Beats strong amid the hills, | |
| They pause, contented with the wealth | 15 |
| That either bosom fills. | |
| |
| There is a lake, a small round lake, | |
| High on the mountain’s breast, | |
| The child of rains and melted snows, | |
| The torrent’s summer rest,— | 20 |
| A mirror where the veteran rocks | |
| May glass their peaks and scars, | |
| A nether sky where breezes break | |
| The sunlight into stars. | |
| |
| O, gayly shone that little lake, | 25 |
| And Nature, sternly fair, | |
| Put on a sparkling countenance | |
| To greet that merry pair; | |
| How light from stone to stone they leapt, | |
| How trippingly they ran; | 30 |
| To scale the rock and gain the marge | |
| Was all a moment’s span! | |
| |
| “See, dearest, this primeval boat, | |
| So quaint and rough, I deem | |
| Just such an one did Charon ply | 35 |
| Across the Stygian stream: | |
| Step in,—I will your Charon be, | |
| And you a Spirit bold,— | |
| I was a famous rower once | |
| In college days of old. | 40 |
| |
| “The clumsy oar! the laggard boat! | |
| How slow we move along,— | |
| The work is harder than I thought,— | |
| A song, my love, a song!” | |
| Then, standing up, she carolled out | 45 |
| So blithe and sweet a strain | |
| That the long-silent cliffs were glad | |
| To peal it back again. | |
| |
| He, tranced in joy, the oar laid down, | |
| And rose in careless pride, | 50 |
| And swayed in cadence to the song | |
| The boat from side to side: | |
| Then clasping hand in loving hand, | |
| They danced a childish round, | |
| And felt as safe in that mid-lake | 55 |
| As on the firmest ground. | |
| |
| One poise too much!—He headlong fell,— | |
| She, stretching out to save | |
| A feeble arm, was borne adown | |
| Within that glittering grave;— | 60 |
| One moment, and the gush went forth | |
| Of music-mingled laughter,— | |
| The struggling splash and deathly shriek | |
| Were there the instant after. | |
| |
| Her weaker head above the flood, | 65 |
| That quick engulfed the strong, | |
| Like some enchanted water-flower, | |
| Waved pitifully long:— | |
| Long seemed the low and lonely wail | |
| Athwart the tide to fade; | 70 |
| Alas! that there were some to hear, | |
| But never one to aid. | |
| |
| Yet not alas! if Heaven revered | |
| The freshly spoken vow, | |
| And willed that what was then made one | 75 |
| Should not be sundered now,— | |
| If she was spared, by that sharp stroke, | |
| Love’s most unnatural doom, | |
| The future lorn and unconsoled, | |
| The unavoided tomb! | 80 |
| |
| But weep, ye very rocks! for those | |
| Who, on their native shore, | |
| Await the letters of dear news | |
| That shall arrive no more; | |
| One letter from a stranger hand,— | 85 |
| Few words are all the need; | |
| And then the funeral of the heart, | |
| The course of useless speed! | |
| |
| The presence of the cold dead wood, | |
| The single mark and sign | 90 |
| Of her so loved and beautiful, | |
| That handiwork divine! | |
| The weary search for his fine form | |
| That in the depth would linger, | |
| And late success,—O, leave the ring | 95 |
| Upon that faithful finger! | |
| |
| And if in life there lie the seed | |
| Of real enduring being, | |
| If love and truth be not decreed | |
| To perish unforeseeing, | 100 |
| This youth the seal of death has stamped | |
| Now time can wither never, | |
| This hope that sorrow might have damped | |
| Is fresh and strong forever. 1 | |
