قراءة كتاب Myra's Well: A Tale of All-Hallow-E'en
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 5
in Bertram's arms!
He holds her close to his impassioned breast,
Kissing her hair and eyes and cheeks and mouth;
Then feels the beating of her fluttering heart,
And prays her to come back to life and him.
He chafes her small white hands and dainty limbs,
And, from the well, drops water on her brow;
But all in vain—so cold and still she lies,
Like living beauty sudden smit with death!
Kissing her hair and eyes and cheeks and mouth;
Then feels the beating of her fluttering heart,
And prays her to come back to life and him.
He chafes her small white hands and dainty limbs,
And, from the well, drops water on her brow;
But all in vain—so cold and still she lies,
Like living beauty sudden smit with death!
"Fool that I was!" the anxious lover cries—
"I have worked harm indeed by coming forth.
Thus oft we hurt the one we love most dear
And learn too late the folly of an hour!"
He lifts her gently in his loving arms,
And bears her easily to Elpsie's hut—
No Elpsie there—the door wide open stands!—
And lays her on the couch, renews the fire,
And on his bended knee by Ada's side
Regards her sadly and adoringly.
"I have worked harm indeed by coming forth.
Thus oft we hurt the one we love most dear
And learn too late the folly of an hour!"
He lifts her gently in his loving arms,
And bears her easily to Elpsie's hut—
No Elpsie there—the door wide open stands!—
And lays her on the couch, renews the fire,
And on his bended knee by Ada's side
Regards her sadly and adoringly.
Soon he perceives a tremor o'er her steal,
Swift fluttering of her breath, a sudden gasp,
A deep-drawn sigh, and then her eyes unclose—
Her violet eyes so tender and so true,
Yet with a far-off-look between the lids—
And gaze half mournfully at him. Then soft
And musical her low voice sounds again:
"My Bertram, mine, methought I had a dream,
And in that dream I lost thee—thou, my life!
And yet through all that dream, another dream,
In which thou madest me all thine own—thy wife—
And rained soft kisses on my lips and brow,
And guarded me like Christ and all His Saints,
And held me safely to thy noble breast
Through all of good or ill—
But thou art pale!
And on thy face swift shadows come and go!
Come, kiss me love! The night is cold, not thou!
For warm thy brown cheek is, as flesh and blood;
And now I feel thy sweet breath on my brow!
Are spirits all as palpable as thou?"—
And then—half startled by the sudden doubt—
"Where am I, Bertram?"
"Here upon my heart,
Thou best-beloved, secure and safe with him
Who is thyself from henceforth and for aye,
Whether for good or ill—but surely good;
Here, in old Elpsie's hut, near-by the well,
At which I found thee, and didst bring thee here
Frightened by sudden seeing of a face
That looked the love it owns!"—
"O holy Saints!
O shame! what have I done?" poor Ada cries:
"It all comes back with harrowing circumstance,
Alas! to curse my mem'ry; woe is me!"
And here broke down with sudden storm of tears—
Of tears and sighs!
"Nay, nay, dear heart"—he chides,
And clasps her close—"The churchmen hold it true
That all which rightly ends is justified.
I always loved thee, sweet, from the first day—
But dared not wed—nor even woo a bride.
A curse is on our house. When yet a child
Old Elpsie told me how ancestral sin
Had brought it down from father unto son,
And thence to me. My grandsire died, unshriven,
By his own hand, 'tis said, beside this well;
And all his children died quite suddenly
By deaths almost as strange; and I alone
Am left—the last one of the line! Dare I
Bring misery and death to her I love—
As I love thee?"
"Thou lovest me, Sir Knight,
A lowly maiden, in a forest lone?
Ah! honest love would make no chaffer thus!
Thou hintest what thy proud lips dare not say—
Dallying like wanton bee about a flower!
Hath honor fled from man?"
"Nay, nay, mine own—
Banish distrust and fear! The hand of fate
Is in our meeting—none, save she, to blame.
There is a moment in each being's life
On which that being's destiny doth hang—
A moment fateful and all-pivotal;
For both of us that moment now has come!
Around the head of God a nimbus floats—
'Tis the divine effulgence of His Truth!—
And all His Saints do borrow of that light;
And even men do share its guiding beams.
I ask thy hand in wedlock, lovely maid,
If thou wilt brave the curse with me."
"The curse!
Ten thousand curses would I risk with thee
As thy leal wife! To such a Knight as thou
My Bertram—my true Knight—no ill shall fall,
But, should it come, then let it fall on me!
Yet Heaven is kind, and Mary merciful—
O Holy one, most merciful to me!"
Swift fluttering of her breath, a sudden gasp,
A deep-drawn sigh, and then her eyes unclose—
Her violet eyes so tender and so true,
Yet with a far-off-look between the lids—
And gaze half mournfully at him. Then soft
And musical her low voice sounds again:
"My Bertram, mine, methought I had a dream,
And in that dream I lost thee—thou, my life!
And yet through all that dream, another dream,
In which thou madest me all thine own—thy wife—
And rained soft kisses on my lips and brow,
And guarded me like Christ and all His Saints,
And held me safely to thy noble breast
Through all of good or ill—
But thou art pale!
And on thy face swift shadows come and go!
Come, kiss me love! The night is cold, not thou!
For warm thy brown cheek is, as flesh and blood;
And now I feel thy sweet breath on my brow!
Are spirits all as palpable as thou?"—
And then—half startled by the sudden doubt—
"Where am I, Bertram?"
"Here upon my heart,
Thou best-beloved, secure and safe with him
Who is thyself from henceforth and for aye,
Whether for good or ill—but surely good;
Here, in old Elpsie's hut, near-by the well,
At which I found thee, and didst bring thee here
Frightened by sudden seeing of a face
That looked the love it owns!"—
"O holy Saints!
O shame! what have I done?" poor Ada cries:
"It all comes back with harrowing circumstance,
Alas! to curse my mem'ry; woe is me!"
And here broke down with sudden storm of tears—
Of tears and sighs!
"Nay, nay, dear heart"—he chides,
And clasps her close—"The churchmen hold it true
That all which rightly ends is justified.
I always loved thee, sweet, from the first day—
But dared not wed—nor even woo a bride.
A curse is on our house. When yet a child
Old Elpsie told me how ancestral sin
Had brought it down from father unto son,
And thence to me. My grandsire died, unshriven,
By his own hand, 'tis said, beside this well;
And all his children died quite suddenly
By deaths almost as strange; and I alone
Am left—the last one of the line! Dare I
Bring misery and death to her I love—
As I love thee?"
"Thou lovest me, Sir Knight,
A lowly maiden, in a forest lone?
Ah! honest love would make no chaffer thus!
Thou hintest what thy proud lips dare not say—
Dallying like wanton bee about a flower!
Hath honor fled from man?"
"Nay, nay, mine own—
Banish distrust and fear! The hand of fate
Is in our meeting—none, save she, to blame.
There is a moment in each being's life
On which that being's destiny doth hang—
A moment fateful and all-pivotal;
For both of us that moment now has come!
Around the head of God a nimbus floats—
'Tis the divine effulgence of His Truth!—
And all His Saints do borrow of that light;
And even men do share its guiding beams.
I ask thy hand in wedlock, lovely maid,
If thou wilt brave the curse with me."
"The curse!
Ten thousand curses would I risk with thee
As thy leal wife! To such a Knight as thou
My Bertram—my true Knight—no ill shall fall,
But, should it come, then let it fall on me!
Yet Heaven is kind, and Mary merciful—
O Holy one, most merciful to me!"
Sir Bertram saw sweet Ada safely home;
And, as he left her, from the near-by woods—
His heart a-tremble with his happiness—
He saw a light; 'twas Elpsie's hut in flames!
And, as he left her, from the near-by woods—
His heart a-tremble with his happiness—
He saw a light; 'twas Elpsie's hut in flames!
Beside the well now stands a cosy lodge
Sir Bertram built for Elpsie, and the hut,
Which heard their vows that night, exists no more.
Sir Bertram built a chapel on its site;
And thence, that coming Christmas, took his bride,
His lovely Ada, to her Castle-Home—
The home of Morven the "Great Mountain," who
Had gone "down to the vale" to meet his love—
Of Bertram, the "bright raven" who, with ease,
"By moonlight," in "mid-watches of the night,"
Had carried Ada's form—a full-sized Holt—
And "Holt" means "Forest" in our Saxon tongue.
Sir Bertram built for Elpsie, and the hut,
Which heard their vows that night, exists no more.
Sir Bertram built a chapel on its site;
And thence, that coming Christmas, took his bride,
His lovely Ada, to her Castle-Home—
The home of Morven the "Great Mountain," who
Had gone "down to the vale" to meet his love—
Of Bertram, the "bright raven" who, with ease,
"By moonlight," in "mid-watches of the night,"
Had carried Ada's form—a full-sized Holt—
And "Holt" means "Forest" in our Saxon tongue.
And when old Elpsie died, she left a will