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They by parks and lodges going
See the lordly castles stand :
Made a murmur in the land.
Says to her that loves him well, “ Let us see these handsome houses
Where the wealthy nobles dwell.” So she goes by him attended,
Hears him lovingly converse, Sees whatever fair and splendid
Lay betwixt his home and hers; Parks with oak and chestnut shady,
Parks and order'd gardens great,
Built for pleasure and for state.
Evermore she seems to gaze
Where the twain will spend their days. O but she will love him truly!
He shall have a cheerful home;
She will order all things duly,
When beneath his roof they come. Thus her heart rejoices greatly,
Till a gateway she discerns With armorial bearings stately,
And beneath the gate she turns ; Sees a mansion more majestic
Than all those she saw before ; Many a gallant gay domestic
Bows before him at the door. And they speak in gentle murmur,
When they answer to his call, While he treads with footsteps firmer,
Leading on from hall to hall. And, while now she wonders blindly,
Nor the meaning can divine, Proudly turns he round and kindly,
“All of this is mine and thine." Here he lives in state and bounty,
Lord of Burleigh, fair and free; Not a lord in all the county
Is so great a lord as he.
All at once the colour flushes
Her sweet face from brow to chin: As it were with shame she blushes,
And her spirit changed within. Then her countenance all over
Pale again as death did prove: But he clasp'd her like a lover,
And he cheer'd her soul with love.
So she strove against her weakness,
Though at times her spirits sank; Shaped her heart with woman's meekness
To all duties of her rank: And a gentle consort made he,
And her gentle mind was such That she grew a noble lady,
And the people loved her much. But a trouble weigh'd upon her,
And perplex'd her, night and morn, With the burthen of an honour
Unto which she was not born. Faint she grew, and ever fainter,
As she murmur'd, “ Oh, that he
Were once more that landscape-painter,
Which did win my heart from me!” So she droop'd and droop'd befo 'e him,
Fading slowly from his side : Three fair children first she bore him,
Then before her time she died. Weeping, weeping late and early,
Walking up and pacing down, Deeply mourn’d the Lord of Burleigh,
Burleigh-house by Stamford-town. And he came to look upon her,
And he look’d at her and said, “ Bring the dress, and put it on her,
That she wore when she was wed.”
Bore to earth her body, drest
That her spirit might have rest.
SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE.
LIKE souls that balance joy and pain,
In crystal vapour everywhere
From draughts of balmy air.
Sometimes the linnet piped his song: