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In many ways doth the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal;
But in far more th' estranged heart lets know

The absence of the love, which yet it fain would show.

ALICE DU CLOS:

OR THE FORKED TONGUE. A BALLAD.

"One word with two meanings is the traitor's shield and shaft and a slit tongue be his blazon!"

"THE Sun is not yet risen,

Caucasian Proverb.

But the dawn lies red on the dew:

Lord Julian has stolen from the hunters away,

Is seeking, Lady, for you.

Put on your dress of green,

Your buskins and your quiver;

Lord Julian is a hasty man,
Long waiting brooked he never.
I dare not doubt him, that he means

To wed you on a day,

Your lord and master for to be,
And you his lady gay.

O Lady! throw your book aside!

I would not that my lord should chide."

Thus spake Sir Hugh the vassal knight

To Alice, child of old Du Clos,

As spotless fair, as airy light

As that moon-shiny doe,

The gold star on its brow, her sire's ancestral crest!
For ere the lark had left his nest,

She in the garden bower below
Sate loosely wrapt in maiden white,
Her face half drooping from the sight,
A snow-drop on a tuft of snow!
O close your eyes, and strive to see
The studious maid, with book on knee,-
Ah! earliest-opened flower;
While yet with keen unblunted light
The morning star shone opposite

The lattice of her bower-
Alone of all the starry host
As if in prideful scorn

Of flight and fear he stayed behind,
To brave th' advancing morn.

O! Alice could read passing well,
And she was conning then

Dan Ovid's mazy tale of loves,

And gods, and beasts, and men.

The vassal's speech, his taunting vein,
It thrilled like venom through her brain;
Yet never from the book

She raised her head, nor did she deign
The knight a single look.

"Off, traitor friend! how dar'st thou fix

Thy wanton gaze on me?
And why, against my earnest suit,
Does Julian send by thee?

"Go, tell thy Lord, that slow is sure:
Fair speed his shafts to-day!

I follow here a stronger lure,
And chase a gentler prey."

She said

and with a baleful smile

The vassal knight reeled off— Like a huge billow from a bark Toiled in the deep sea-trough,

That shouldering sideways in mid plunge,
Is traversed by a flash.

And staggering onward, leaves the ear
With dull and distant crash.

And Alice sate with troubled mien
A moment; for the scoff was keen,
And thro' her veins did shiver!
Then rose and donned her dress of green,
Her buskins and her quiver.

There stands the flow'ring may-thorn tree!
From thro' the veiling mist you see
The black and shadowy stem;-
Smit by the sun the mist in glee
Dissolves to lightsome jewelry-

Each blossom hath its gem!

With tear-drop glittering to a smile,
The gay maid on the garden-stile
Mimics the hunter's shout.

"Hip! Florian, hip! To horse, to horse! Go, bring the palfrey out.

"My Julian's out with all his clan,

And, bonny boy, you wis,

Lord Julian is a hasty man,

Who comes late, comes amiss."

Now Florian was a stripling squire,
A gallant boy of Spain,

That tossed his head in joy and pride,
Behind his Lady fair to ride,

But blushed to hold her train,

The huntress is in her dress of green,—
And forth they go; she with her bow,
Her buskins and her quiver!

The squire no younger e'er was seen-
With restless arm and laughing een,
He makes his javelin quiver.

And had not Ellen stay'd the race,
And stopped to see, a moment's space,
The whole great globe of light
Give the last parting kiss-like touch
To the eastern ridge, it lacked not much,
They had o'erta'en the knight.

It chanced that up the covert lane,
Where Julian waiting stood,

A neighbour knight prick'd on to join
The huntsmen in the wood.

And with him must Lord Julian go,
Tho' with an angered mind:

Betrothed not wedded to his bride,

In vain he sought, 'twixt shame and pride, Excuse to stay behind.

He bit his lip, he wrung his glove,
He looked around, he looked above,
But pretext none could find or frame !
Alas! alas! and well a-day!

It grieves me sore to think, to say,
That names so seldom meet with Love,

Yet Love wants courage without a name!

Straight from the forest's skirt the trees
O'er-branching, made an aisle,
Where hermit old might pace and chaunt
As in a minster's pile.

From underneath its leafy screen,

And from the twilight shade, You pass at once into a green, A green and lightsome glade.

And there Lord Julian sate on steed;
Behind him, in a round,

Stood knight and squire, and menial train;
Against the leash the greyhounds strain;
The horses pawed the ground.

When up the alley green, Sir Hugh
Spurred in upon the sward,

And mute, without a word, did he
Fall in behind his lord.

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