Five years before-it was the night That on the village-green they parted, O'er maids and mothers broken-hearted; My father-if not for his own, Oh for his daughter's sake!" Inly he vowed-'twas all he could; And went and sealed it with his blood. And in her playfulness she smiled, Where meteor-like the chamois glided, Thro' many a misty grove. They loved-but under Friendship's name; And Reason, Virtue fanned the flame, Till in their houses Discord came, And 'twas a crime to love. Then what was Jacqueline to do? * Called in the language of the country Pas-de-l' Echelle. And when to soothe, and when persuade; But now her path De Courcy crossed, Led by his falcon through the glade— He turned, beheld, admired the maid; And all her little arts were lost! De Courcy, Lord of Argentiere! This message "Oh let us fly-to part no more!" THAT morn ('twas in Ste. Julienne's cell, As at Ste. Julienne's sacred well Their dream of love began) That morn, ere many a star was set, Their hands had on the altar met Before the holy man. -And now, her strength, her courage spent, And more than half a penitent, She comes along the path she went. The woods, the golden meadows passed, Where, when Toulouse, thy splendour shone, 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 little lamps at eve, And fairies revel as 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) From every cot above, below, They gather as they go 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; |