"Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. Fairest - why fairest wife? am I not fair? My love hath told me so a thousand times. Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday, When I past by, a wild and wanton pard, Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail Crouched fawning in the weed. Most loving is she? Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest Close, close to thine in that quick-falling dew Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains Flash in the pools of whirling Simois. "O mother, hear me yet before I die. They came, they cut away my tallest pines, My dark tall pines, that plumed the craggy ledge High over the blue gorge, and all between The snowy peak and snow-white cataract Fostered the callow eaglet - from beneath Whose thick mysterious boughs in the dark morn The panther's roar came muffled, while I sat Low in the valley. Never, never more Shall lone Enone see the morning mist Sweep through them; never see them overlaid With narrow moon-lit slips of silver cloud, Between the loud stream and the trembling stars. "O mother, hear me yet before I die. And cast the golden fruit upon the board, "O mother, hear me yet before I die. Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times, In this green valley, under this green hill, Even on this hand, and sitting on this stone ? Sealed it with kisses? watered it with tears? O happy tears, and how unlike to these! O happy Heaven, how canst thou see my face ? O happy earth, how canst thou bear my weight ? O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud, There are enough unhappy on this earth; Pass by the happy souls, that love to live: "O mother, hear me yet before I die. Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills, "O mother, hear me yet before I die. I will rise and go Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth THE SISTERS. 1. We were two daughters of one race: The wind is blowing in turret and tree. They were together, and she fell; II. She died: she went to burning flame: The wind is howling in turret and tree. Whole weeks and months, and early and late, To win his love I lay in wait. O the Earl was fair to see! |