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A Comico-Tragical Tale.
Part I.—The Isle.
ON 1 the verge of the deep, where the dark sea-bird hovers, | |
| Where the wave, in loud fury, bursts wild on the shore; | |
| Near the light-house, whose flame to the wanderer discovers | |
| A beam, like the glance of those long-sever’d lovers, | |
| Who meet in blest rapture, to sever no more; | 5 |
| An isle of white sand, like a desert is seen, | |
| Where no wild flower blushes in meadow of green; | |
| But, where long tangled sea-weed is cast on the strand, | |
| Like the gray locks of age, pluck’d by merciless hand; | |
| For the storm tore it up from its deep oozy bed, | 10 |
| As the ruffian tears locks from the wanderer’s head: | |
| Oh! ye who would view “this famed desert” aright, | |
| Go visit the strand by the “pale starry light;” | |
| When the bleak wind is high, and the breakers are gleaming, | |
| And the owl is abroad, and the sea-gull is screaming; | 15 |
| Then, sit near yon circummured castle awhile, | |
| And behold the fell grandeur of Sullivan’s isle. | |
| The moonbeam just gleams on yon ruin so bare, | |
| One moment the moonbeam has fled; | |
| Like the quick frantic smile on the face of despair, | 20 |
| When she bends o’er the couch of the dead. | |
| Oft to visit this spot a blest seraph is seen, | |
| With an eye ever bright, and a robe ever green, | |
| And a cheek, where the red rose for ever must bloom: | |
| And she covers with daisies the path to the tomb; | 25 |
| The youth that she smiles on is certainly blest, | |
| He has strength for the chase, and fair visions for rest; | |
| I have wiped the big drops from a brow cold as stone, | |
| But I have seldom seen health on her diamond throne. | |
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| Far famed was the castle, now lost in decay, | 30 |
| That frown’d o’er the high surging sea; | |
| Though pale is the blood-stain, and long past the day, | |
| Still, who has not heard of that noble affray, | |
| And its banner, the green island tree? | |
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Part II.—The Night. In bugle bed-gown frown’d the night, | 35 |
| Like angry witch with baneful spite; | |
| She scarce allow’d the stars to light | |
| The sandy hills around. | |
| The moon, ’t is thought, was fast asleep, | |
| In distant cavern dark and deep, | 40 |
| Where silence doth her vigils keep, | |
| In mystery profound. | |
| The stricken drum announced the hour, | |
| The sentry paced round fosse and tower, | |
| And fearing much a drenching shower, | 45 |
| Around his watch-coat drew: | |
| A sudden sorrow fill’d his mind, | |
| His memory, with hint unkind, | |
| Spoke of past times, and he repined | |
| His coat was now not new. | 50 |
| Ah! little did that watchman dream | |
| Of battle field e’er morning beam, | |
| Of noisy shout and piercing scream, | |
| From virgin beauty fair; | |
| Or he had bow’d his lofty crest, | 55 |
| And wiped his eyes, and smote his breast, | |
| And ’gainst his brow steel gauntlet press’d, | |
| In token of despair. | |
| Now arm in arm, or hand in hand, | |
| Two knights pass’d slowly o’er the strand, | 60 |
| Unarm’d with battle-axe or brand, | |
| Or faulchion broad, or spear: | |
| Anon they stopp’d before the tower, | |
| Where fair Floressa 2 slept in bower, | |
| Far from enchanter’s baneful power, | 65 |
| Or haggard wizard drear. | |
| “I know this beauteous virgin rare, | |
| And by yon vaulted arch I swear, | |
| A foot more light, a face more fair, | |
| And ’sooth an eye more bright, | 70 |
| On earth before has never been, | |
| And she yclept the fairy queen | |
| By wilder’d knight or damsel seen, | |
| Would wither in her sight. | |
| Let poet Spenser deftly tell, | 75 |
| Of Britomart and Florimel, | |
| And loudly wild his numbers swell; | |
| In either damsel’s praise: | |
| Or e’en let Ariosto rear | |
| A trophy to Marphisa’s spear, | 80 |
| Or Tasso crown his virgin dear | |
| With never-fading bays: | |
| For these must bow before her shrine, | |
| And e’en the Amazon divine, | |
| Who tasted Alexander’s wine, | 85 |
| And Joan of Arc beside.” | |
| Thus spoke the foremost knight, and strode | |
| In silence o’er the sandy road, | |
| That led toward her blest abode; | |
| The gate flew open wide. | 90 |
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Part III.—The Visit. Slow o’er the platform paced a knight, 3 | |
| In glittering vest and armor dight; | |
| High on his helm, like passing cloud, | |
| With awful nod, a horsetail bow’d. | |
| ’T was said by Douglas, in his pride, | 95 |
| “Right fairly” doth Lord Marmion ride; | |
| To give this mailed chief his due, | |
| He rode as well and fairly too. | |
| The steed Bucephalus of yore, | |
| Triumphant through the battle bore | 100 |
| Great Philip’s son, in warlike pride; | |
| ’T is said, when that famed stallion died, | |
| The monarch many a tear-drop shed, | |
| And built a city o’er his head: | |
| Our chief, for love of faithful steed, | 105 |
| Had done almost as good a deed; | |
| To build a city, though not able, | |
| He built, ’t was all he could—a stable. | |
| The knights 4 who to the gateway came, | |
| Call’d on Floressa’s honor’d name, | 110 |
| Saying, within that lady’s bower, | |
| They came to spend a short half hour. | |
| The mailed chieftain, turning, said, | |
| “That lady bright has gone to bed:” | |
| The knight his manly port admired, | 115 |
| And bowing—would have soon retired; | |
| When quick they heard a mighty jar, | |
| A tumult wild, a din of war: | |
| High on the castle’s slanting stair, | |
| Appear’d the form of female fair; | 120 |
| Wild was her look with haggard fright, | |
| Her hair was loose, her dress was white: | |
| Down—down she swept, like fell Simoom, | |
| Left all her armor in her room, | |
| Toss’d from her eyes the flowing hair, | 125 |
| Brandish’d her stalwart arm in air; | |
| And thus ’midst thunders, fire, and smoke, | |
| That tender, lovely virgin spoke. | |
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Part IV.—The Battle. “Hold! thieves and murderers, on your lives, | |
| Bring pistols, scissors, carving knives, | 130 |
| And shed their impious gore:” | |
| She caught the foremost by his coat, | |
| Grasp’d with her sinewy hand his throat, | |
| To dash him on the floor; | |
| “A knife, a knife, fly quickly, fly, | 135 |
| Attack the villains or I die. | |
| What, pistols, ho! is no one nigh? | |
| Quick, minion, on thy life; | |
| My castle for a gleaming steel, | |
| To make those damned robbers feel | 140 |
| The deadly blow this arm can deal; | |
| My kingdom for a knife!!— | |
| Fire quick”—a flash beam’d ruddy bright, | |
| A bullet took its erring flight | |
| From smoking petronel. | 145 |
| Death now appear’d to call his court, | |
| For soon, as if in playful sport, | |
| A seeming victim fell. | |
| “Off, from my hall, you scoundrels base, | |
| Let no one longer show his face, | 150 |
| This is my own domain and place, | |
| Let no damn’d slave deride it; | |
| Who dares among you all to frown? | |
| I paid in yonder distant town, | |
| Each farthing of the money down, | 155 |
| The very hour I buy’d it. | |
| Down with the huge portcullis straight, | |
| Go, quick as lightning shut the gate, | |
| The lowly villains bind;” | |
| With that, she gave a hearty damn | 160 |
| To either knight, the gate goes slam, | |
| And one remains behind: | |
| Gleam’d in her hand the pointed knife, | |
| ’T is aim’d at that lone captive’s life, | |
| With many a deadly thrust; | 165 |
| The servants shudder with affright, | |
| For never was a mortal wight | |
| So handled, and so cursed. | |
| Against such gentleness, such charms, | |
| What knight could wield his missile arms? | 170 |
| Sure all must be subdued! | |
| And he who tarried in her hold, | |
| And saw her meek demeanor bold, | |
| In cool amazement stood!!— | |
| The chieftain with the waving crest | 175 |
| Felt some compunction in his breast, | |
| And oped the gate again; | |
| From whence the captive soon withdrew, | |
| And oaths like hailstones after flew | |
| In Eleusinian strain. | 180 |
| Thus ended, without blood or spoil, | |
| The battle’s rage and loud turmoil, | |
| And imprecations vile; | |
| From hence ye warriors all beware, | |
| Still ponder on that lady fair, | 185 |
| And ever in your memories bear, | |
| The battle of the isle. | |
