The drum-it drowned the last adieu, My father-if not for his own, Oh for his daughter's sake!" Inly he vowed-'twas all he could; Nor can ye wonder. When a child, And in her playfulness she smiled, They loved--but under Friendship's name; And 'twas a crime to love. Then what was Jacqueline to do? Thy thirst for vengeance sought the snare. * Called in the language of the country Pas-de-l'Echelle. The day was named, the guests invited; That morn, ere many a star was set, Their hands had on the altar met -And now, her strength, her courage spent, And more than half a penitent, She comes along the path she went. And now the village gleams at last; So saying, thro' the fragrant shade While Manchon round and round her played: And, as that silent glen they leave, Where by the spring the pitchers stand, Where glow-worms light their lamps at eve, And fairies dance-in fairy-land, (When Lubin calls, and Blanche steals round, Her finger on her lip, to see; And many an acorn-cup is found Under the greenwood tree) Sabot, and coif, and collerette, The housewife's prayer, the grandam's blessing! Girls that adjust their locks of jet, And look and look and linger yet, The lovely bride caressing; Babes that had learnt to lisp her name, But what felt D'Arcy, when at length All, all the while--an awful distance keeping; Who weeps to see his sister weeping. X |