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Cornell University 
 Library 
 
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 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013483494 
 
E L E K I D A. 
 
 Robert B. Wolt, 
 
 ADTHOK OF "KYNWITH," ETC. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, EEADEB & DYER. 
 
 1868. 
 The right of' Translation is reserved. 
 
SJDTJO, PmXTEBS, 80UTH 
 
 McCOKQIfODALB ASJDTJO, PBTxTEIIS, IoUTHWABK, LONDOS 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ELFRIDA. 
 
 Canto I. 
 „ n. 
 „ . III. 
 „ IV. 
 „ V. 
 
 1 
 
 37 
 
 75 
 
 113 
 
 151 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Mary at Bethlehem 
 
 Mary in Egypt 
 
 Mar J- in the Temple 
 . MaryatCana 
 Mary at the Cross 
 The Angel at the Sepulchre 
 
 189 
 191 
 193 
 195 
 197 
 199 
 
 BREAK. 
 
 Part I. 
 Part II. 
 Part' m. 
 Part rV. 
 
 205 
 209 
 213 
 
 217 
 
(&nUn)s at Stationm' fall) 
 
INTEODUCTION. 
 
 Upgano Housk, 
 
 JJecemher 1st, 1868. 
 
 My Dear Lee, 
 
 Some months ago I published "Kynwith" 
 at your suggestion, and if amusement were all 
 one expected to derive from criticism, I have 
 certainly had no lack of it ; but I look in vain 
 for the proximate unity of opinion from which I 
 hoped to obtain valuable hints as to the merit 
 of ray work, and the expediency of further efforts. 
 Looking over the review^s, I find the Athenceum 
 awarding me "considerable power of word 
 painting, some sense of humour, and much care- 
 ful study of good models in verse;" while the 
 Imperial says, " both thought and language are 
 as prosaic as possible." 
 
VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Art Journal^ " could select passages that 
 would do no discredit to any author living or 
 dead;" and the Observer considers that as a 
 whole "Kynwith" "wUl bear favourable com- 
 parison with most of the works of poetry of the 
 present day, and will prove pleasant and agree- 
 able reading ;" but the London considers " the 
 writer's powers of very average quality, and of 
 the tale it is not necessary to give any account." 
 
 The Daily News, crediting me with thoughtful 
 care, poetic feeling, and cultivated taste, would 
 have liked more details " of the conflict between 
 natm-al longings and the sense of religious obli- 
 gations self imposed ;" while the Guardian, after 
 lauding Mr. Browning as an obscure but forcible 
 writer, who might be capable of depicting men- 
 tal difficulties, considers "that Mr. Holt, in 
 endeavouring by the help of verse to leap across 
 centuries, has conveyed no impression but that 
 of profound unreality." 
 
 The Pall Mall, in a long article almost paternal 
 
1NT150DDCT10N. Vll 
 
 in spirit, points out defects of composition that I 
 hope to remedy, but if the writer really considers 
 tliat deep religious speculations were not rife in 
 the ninth century, I can only refer him to the 
 histories of that. time as my defence. 
 
 It is useless to multiply instances of critical 
 disagreement : no two papers agree about the 
 merits of my book, so I have decided to gra- 
 tify the kindly writer in the Worcester Journal, 
 who "has no fault to find with the author of 
 ^Kynwith' — and will be glad to hear that he 
 has another volume in the press." In "Elfrida" 
 I have endeavoured to avoid whatever was con- 
 sidered objectionable in the previous work, and 
 trust that to some extent I have succeeded; 
 how far, others must determine. 
 
 In tliis tale I have depicted a young high- 
 spirited girl sacrificing ii flection to ambition. I 
 have endeavoured to trace the efiects of dis- 
 appointment, sviccess, and bereavement, in her 
 
INTEODUCTION. 
 
 character; to show what influenced her, and 
 how her quaUties reacted on others, unmasking 
 a deceiver, and elevating a seneuahst, but de- 
 grading her ultimately through habitual falsity, 
 till in misfortune she becomes capable of any 
 enormity. 
 
 As yon proposed the subject to me, I use this 
 occasion to express my deep sense of the kind 
 encouragement you have always given me, and 
 only desire that this work may prove worthy 
 of the good opinion you have expressed of it. 
 
 Believe me, my dear fcir. 
 
 Yours most sincerely, 
 
 ROBT. B. HOLT. 
 
 £. LKli, Esq., 
 
 Cbtstal Palace. 
 
ELFEIDA. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 A MIGHTIER king than Edgar, reigned 
 In Edgar's palace, and the treasure gained 
 He came to ravish. Half the Saxon throne 
 Was subject to a stranger, and the king sat lone 
 With ghastful eyes, that, wand'ring, sought the dead 
 Through rain of tears enshrouding Ethelflede, — 
 The snowy Duck, that Love had hoped would rest 
 A life-long summer, nestled on his breast. 
 
 Monarch, awake ! from enervating trance, 
 A nation claims thy presence and thy care ; 
 
 B 
 
ii BLFEIDA. 
 
 Leave not thy duties to tlie sway of chance, 
 
 Though king — ^be man — weep not, but live 
 and bear. 
 
 True noble natures never long are bound 
 By self-indulgence, such as binds thee now ; 
 Others bore grief before thee, and have found 
 Most comfort in most striving — so wilt thou. 
 
 The drooping rose, for ever drenched in showers, 
 Gives not the perfume it was born to yield ; 
 But swift decay consumes the queen of flowers. 
 
 Till Heaven, wrath breathing, strews it o'er 
 the field. 
 
 Monarch, awake ! thy people long have borne, 
 And now 'tis time that thou should'st do thy 
 part; 
 Save holy sorrow from the breath of scorn. 
 
 Show men thou hast a soul as well as heart. 
 
ELPRIDA. 
 
 Such were the whispers that disturbs^ the 
 court 
 As months past on, and still King Edgar thought 
 Of Ethelflede alone — the dear lost wife, 
 Who one brief spring-time blossom'd on his life. 
 With hopeful promise ; but the fruit mature 
 A fleshless hand closed speedily and sure 
 Upon the branch which bare it. So the man, 
 Spoiled of joy's treasure, moodily would plan 
 Career of sorrow for the princely child 
 Who called him father, while no mother smiled. 
 
 But once again came round the genial Tule, 
 When fair hands crown the merry lord Misrule 
 Throughout all Christendom ; then sat the king 
 Gay, radiant, in his hall, while grief took wing. 
 Like vampire light-affrighted, and his heart 
 Again beat warmly as he took a part 
 In that high festival, or watched the games 
 That meaner men and shame-pretending dames 
 
4 . ELFEIDA. 
 
 Were prone to share in, where berried bough 
 Proclaimed Misrule sweet freedom would allow 
 To loving courtesy, while echo rang 
 A merry chorus to the song they sang : -r 
 
 There is a plant, disdaining earth, 
 
 Which grows on the old oak bough 
 Of magic power and mystic birth — 
 The glorious misletoe 1 
 'Tis free as air, 
 It brings no care, 
 Its power springs not of thought ; 
 Where'er are seen 
 The white and green. 
 Its magic speU is wrought. 
 Then hang up the misletoe, 
 Then hang up the misletoe ; 
 What charms so rare 
 As berries fair 
 Of glorious misletoe ! 
 
ELFEIDA. 
 
 'Tis said of old that spirits bright 
 Right blythely danced below, 
 And fairy banquets spread at night 
 Under the misletoe ; 
 
 And still at e'en 
 
 Bright forms are seen, ' 
 And voices whisper low ; 
 
 The feast is there 
 
 For all who bear, 
 The magic misletoe. 
 
 Then hang up the misletoe. 
 
 Then hang up the misletoe ; 
 
 For lips so sweet 
 
 We nowhere meet, 
 As under misletoe. 
 
 Then gleemen brought a mighty sable bear, ' 
 Whom one had tamed, and trained with parlous care 
 To play strange antics in a dance uncouth, 
 With snout raised knowingly, as though, forsooth, 
 
6 BLFHIDA. 
 
 He scented melody, and sought to tread 
 
 In mazy path, as flute discordant led ; 
 
 Loud trumpets, bray'd, and one-stick drums were 
 
 beat, 
 "While skilful mummers showed each cunning feat 
 The king demanded. One displayed a shower 
 Of flying balls and knives, that owned his power 
 And ch'cled harmless ; others hopp'd about 
 With strange contortions, oft exciting shout 
 Of wonder'd merriment, while studied jest 
 Kept shake-side laughter as a constant guest. 
 
 Then came a luU amid the mirthful storm. 
 So forth, low-bending, stepped a reverend form ; 
 Won ready audience from the guests and king ; 
 Called for his harp, swept lightly o'er each string 
 And then began the song they bade him sing. 
 
 The happy lots made Cerdic king. 
 King of the roving sails 
 
ELFEIDA. 
 
 Of barks deep-bosom'd ; fit to bring 
 The Saxon chiefs, whose valour flew 
 O'er briny bath of wild sea-mew, 
 Till, as their own, they claimed anew 
 The country of the whales. 
 
 The breezes sped them on their course, 
 
 Sped them to Britain's shore ; 
 They heard and echo'd music hoarse, 
 That mighty Niord's joy reveals ; 
 And angry biUows, deafning peals, 
 Deemed thunder of his chariot-wheels, 
 In stormy battle roar. 
 
 The vaunting Natanleod's boast 
 
 Broke not his country's chain ; 
 Five thousand vanish'd from his host — 
 For Death arrested in their flight 
 His chosen men — his men of might. 
 Whom Saxon heroes met in fight. 
 And he was with the slain. 
 
ELFBIDA. 
 
 But darker powers to Llongbroth came, 
 
 Great Arthur led them on ; 
 And clashing blades struck sheeted flame, 
 Like thunder clouds that meet and flash. 
 While bloody rains around them dash 
 Like showers that follow thunder-crash^ 
 
 And redden every one. 
 
 The Prince Geraint was there to aid — 
 
 A wolf that raged in vain ; 
 He wild but useless slaughter made ; 
 A thousand Saxons fought that day, 
 Who could his might with might repay — 
 So ComwaU's Prince o'ermaster'd lay, 
 
 And never fought again. 
 
 Thus Cerdic won that British crown 
 
 A Saxon stiU uprears, 
 And clothed his heroes with renown, 
 
ELPRIDA. 
 
 Which drapes each warlike shadow now, 
 Proud marching past with lofty brow — 
 When mem'ry bids the present bow 
 To men that have no peers. 
 
 Yet may we hope God's grace will bring- 
 
 Brave souls to worthy deeds, 
 And aid our bracelet-giving king 
 To be true chief of free-bom men, 
 Who, each endow'd with heart of ten. 
 No danger in their pathway ken. 
 If noble Edgar leads. 
 
 Then from his wrist the graceful monarch drew 
 A golden band, and with fair speeches threw 
 This princely largess to the child of song, 
 Whose lay had pleased him ; so the courtly throng 
 Transferr'd their praises clamour, from the bard. 
 To laud the bracelet-giver, and hurrah'd 
 
10 
 
 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Till they and he were weary, when they staid 
 To wait his pleasure — breathless — and be made 
 Fools, if he will'd it — ^for e'en stripling's smile 
 Gives loyal slaves an idol to beguile 
 The eye of conscience, when peculiar birth 
 Claims to be virtue paramount on earth. 
 
 The king was seated by a hearth, whose blaze 
 Made mimic summer constant to the days 
 Of frigid winter, while on either hand 
 Circled the pride and beauty of the land 
 With fitting rev'rence ; so his young heart swell'd 
 To mate the power whose glory he beheld 
 In court face-mirrors, fashion' d to reflect 
 His will's expression ; but vain thought he check'd 
 As worth degrading, and desired a Thane 
 Would take the harp, and breathe a mirthful strain. 
 
 Brightmser has gotten Walflseda to wife, 
 Of crusty old Wolfware he bought her ; 
 
BLFEIDA. 1 1 
 
 No gold could he find for love or for life, 
 So gave an old sow for the daughter. 
 
 A wife for a sow, 
 
 He has gotten, I trow, 
 Of crusty old Wolfware he bought her. 
 
 They found a mass-priest, and quickly were wed, 
 
 No blessing could ever be shorter ; 
 Wolfware was merry, and pleasantly said, 
 A sow was more use than a daughter. 
 A lass for a sow 
 I have bargain'd, I trow, 
 And wish him all joy who has bought her. 
 
 Wolfware drank ale till he hardly could 
 stand, 
 Then drove off the beast as he caught her ; 
 She ran 'twist his legs, escaped from Mf 
 hand, 
 Good bye to the price of his daughter ! 
 
12 KLFRIDA. 
 
 But wife and old sow, 
 Are at BrightmBer's, I trow, 
 And of each he says, winking, I bought her. 
 
 Loudly and long the noble roist'res laugh'd, 
 As each from studded horn his measure 
 
 quaffed 
 Of ale or mead ; and then the merry king 
 Called to a pensive youth, and bade him sing 
 Or pay the forfeit. So the cnight began 
 In soft, sweet Toice, and thus his ditty ran : — 
 
 Gay, sunny light is steaUng 
 
 Over the trim parterre, 
 And flowers, their souls revealing, 
 
 With perfume charge the air. 
 But should you covet Nature's best, 
 
 And sigh for gem most sweet and rare, 
 Away at eve to the golden West, 
 
 And see the rosebud hiding there. 
 
ELrEIDA. 13 
 
 His ioyal robes arraying, 
 
 Our king is fair to see, 
 To all the world displaying 
 
 A monarcli's mEtjesty. 
 But go, see Nature proud-like drest, 
 
 And say can king with her compare, 
 When erening gives our golden West 
 
 The robe that mflintles beauty there. 
 
 Ten thousand stars are shining 
 
 Like bright angelic eyes, 
 Hope's light with love's combining 
 
 To cheer the sunless skies. 
 But go and see such light contest 
 
 By beauty's eye, with fuller ray, 
 And own to rival with the West 
 
 Tour night must be excess of day. 
 
 The half king's son, his foster mother's child, 
 Stood near to Edgar, and, derisive, smUed 
 
14 ELFRIDA. 
 
 To see this scaldling blush like simple maid 
 That courted favour, but was half afraid 
 To win or wear it ; and a polished jest 
 Sprang from Ms lips, to rankle in a breast 
 That guileless passion tendered. So, abash'd, 
 He shrank, to hide reproachful eyes that flash'd 
 With latent daring ; but the king had felt 
 The passion'd spirit which imperious dwelt 
 In every word he uttered, and reproved 
 The Earl, who mocked him as a boy who loved 
 With innocent affection ; after spoke 
 Kind words to soothe him, that at once awoke 
 Such confidence between them that the youth 
 Told of Elfrida with the words that truth 
 And fond devotion gave him. Soon he drew 
 So fair a picture, that the monarch grew 
 Enamour'd of the maiden, and forgot 
 Man's honor in affection ; nay, could blot 
 His page of regal justice to obtain 
 A subject's falsehood and uxorious chain. 
 
BLFRIDA. 15 
 
 So men beheld their king ; their first in name 
 A lust-enslaTed prime minister of Shame, 
 "Who did his master's bidding — ^prompt to cringe 
 At pleasure's footstool, if the proper tinge 
 Of foulness decked it — virtue was a thing 
 For vice to laugh at, as beneath a king 
 Who lorded conscience, and assumed that right 
 Was law defined by him who wielded might ; 
 So man of wisdom grasp'd each gem or flower 
 That pleased his fancy, and was in his power. 
 
 The king soon bow'd adieu to ev'ry guest, 
 And so retired, on plea of needed rest, 
 To his own chamber, where the courtly earl 
 Was quickly summoned. A sarcastic curl 
 Still marr'd his lip's expression, though hs 
 
 tried 
 To feign the rev'rence scornful heart denied ; 
 That for his ends he might the means employ 
 Which fortune lavish'd on a wayward boy. 
 
16 • ELFEIDA. 
 
 And rule his king, while seeming to obey 
 
 By prompting thoughts that sway'd the monarch's 
 
 sway. 
 
 Impatient Edgar paced the chamber floor 
 With restless eyes, that hover'd round the door 
 UntU the earl had closed it ; then he threw 
 His slender figure on a couch, and drew 
 A fur-lined mantle round him, while he bade 
 His TTiane be seated, and an effort made 
 To state his pleasure. " Ethelwold, you mind 
 That Devon cnight — the youth you were inclined 
 To make a butt of." " Aye, my lord, he gave 
 Good reason to remember, for the knave 
 Earned public censure for me when I thought 
 To please your majesty." " Nay, earl, I caught 
 Infection from him, till I almost seemed 
 A guUeless babe who never yet had dreamed 
 Of bread in secret ; so forget the word, 
 Or hold it something slanderously heard 
 
17 
 
 Of brother Edgar, Have you learnt his name ?" 
 
 " Sigfred, my lord, one not unknown to fame ; 
 
 In other days they bred him for a priest — 
 
 A trade he likes not, so would be releast 
 
 From shaveling's obligations, which are yet 
 
 But half bound on him ; then his heart is set 
 
 To wed a maiden, men report as fair 
 
 As Trojan Helen, and more fit to bear 
 
 A sceptre than a distaff." " So I thought. 
 
 From what he told me ; hast thou gather'd aught 
 
 About her birth or station ? " " 'Tis the child 
 
 Of crafty Ordgar, reared in fashion wUd 
 
 Upon his earldom ; may be, after all, 
 
 A buxom shiremaid, whose rude charms would pall 
 
 On cultur'd owner." " May be," said the king, 
 
 But stiU I wish some kindly fay would bring 
 
 This maiden hither," Ethelwold replied, 
 
 " Tour wUl, my lord, would bring her to your side, 
 
 Without a fairy ; but 'twere well to learn 
 
 Report speaks truly, e'er you penance'earn 
 
 c 
 
18 ELFBIDA. 
 
 From saintly Dunstan. Can you not rely 
 Upon some Thane, who, as a friendly spy, 
 Might prove her beauty ? as for.this, her swain, 
 Leave our Archbishop to complete the chain 
 As best may please him. You well know, of old, 
 With priest or bull-dog 'tis to have and hold." 
 
 Then Edgar, weary, would no more pursue 
 This lated converse ; so the earl withdrew 
 To plan his morrow, while the monarch sought 
 To bind with sleep that energy of thought 
 Which fancy fever'd, tiU his throbbing brain 
 Like tower beleagured, totter'd with the straui ; 
 For wish tumultuous, reason scarce might still, 
 Till servile haste could pander to his will ; 
 So from night's whirl of chafing cares he rose, 
 Unfit for counsel, action, or repose. 
 
 The morning brought its wonted round of cares, 
 Which Edgar 'counter'd with the zeal that spares 
 
19 
 
 Too earnest effort, and contends alone 
 
 For easy posture on luxurious throne ; 
 
 Leaving to potsherds, made from common soil, 
 
 All vulgar usefulness and sober toil. 
 
 For princely creatures are so finely made, 
 
 That use can claim them only to degrade ; 
 
 Like airy motes they dance before the eye — 
 
 Sun-gilded nothings, that all rules defy ; 
 
 SoU, if they touch you — taint the healthful 
 
 blast — 
 A short-lived nuisance — soon forgot as past. 
 
 Saint Peter's stripes humility had cured ; 
 The monk became Archbishop, and endured 
 Great burden honours, whUe men wond'ring, cried 
 That Dunstan was a saint whom God denied ! 
 But dear obscurity, so with much state. 
 The lowly-minded mingled with the great. 
 And whisper'd dreams about his mother dead, 
 In Heavenly 'spousals with the Saviour wed ; 
 
20 BLFEIDA. 
 
 So that if man should of her son complain, 
 The faithful deemed them impious and profane; 
 While Dnnstan, far too holy to resent, 
 Only their names with prayers for sinnei-s 
 
 blent ; 
 Wore coarser garments, fasted somewhat 
 
 more, 
 And perhaps became less cleanly than before. 
 
 The Bishop monk was waiting in the hall, 
 And echo marked his measured paces faU 
 Upon its pavement, like a voice whose tone 
 Speaks solemn truth to him who walks alone 
 Amid deep silence, but is lost among 
 The busy cackle of an idle throng, 
 Whose follies babble with a fluent tongue 
 In course erratic ; when the old are young 
 In ways of gravity, and youth proclaims 
 Its own supreme discretion, whUe it shames 
 Poor modest Wisdom by the kin it claims. 
 
ELFEroA. 11 
 
 Anotlier footstep answered to his tread 
 As Sigfred entered, and, with bended head, 
 Drew slowly near him ; but the bishop past 
 With thoughtful eyes, whose gaze was downward 
 
 cast, 
 In heavenly contemplation — seeing naught 
 But that bright vision teeming fancy wrought 
 From hopes that gathered round him ; but at last 
 He saw the cnight, and then his brow o'ercast 
 With clouds of anger. " It shall not be done ! 
 Plague me no longer. What ! forego a son 
 Born to the Church because unconquered lust 
 Drags back thy weakness yearning toward the dust 
 Of Adam's nature 1 Go ! correct thy sin 
 With fitting penance, and at once begin 
 The life that waits. Apostate, hence ! repair 
 To thine own cell — the rest shall be my care ! " 
 
 How shall young reason bear the bitter smart 
 Of hope's new blossoms riven from the heart 
 
22 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Whose life-blood fed them 1 How consent to bear 
 Prolonged existence, and life's burden share 
 "With some predestined stranger whom the tide 
 Of chance has drifted from the further side 
 Of sympathetic ocean, and whose soul 
 Stm rests beyond the troubled waves that roll 
 In darkness onward, spreading deep and wide, 
 A bond to those whom Nature would divide ? 
 
 This, Sigfred felt, when he was doomed to learn 
 His life's disaster from that spirit stern 
 Which claimed him for its fellow, and would 
 
 break 
 Existence, rather than one hour forsake 
 Its hold upon it ; but the youth at first 
 Scarce felt the rum that upon him burst, 
 Because too dreadful, so like one amazed 
 By stranger language, on the bishop gazed 
 As though to ask his meaning ; then despair 
 Crept o'er his face, and slowly freezing there, 
 
23 
 
 Pent up the fount of sorrow, that his mind 
 E'en poor rehef of weeping might not find. 
 But groans proclaimed how Reason's empire fell, 
 -As saintly purpose forged an earthly hell. 
 
 The purest dreams that paint our thoughts of 
 Heaven 
 Are but the little, that the whole may leaven. 
 And not our lump of being ; so they roll 
 Like clouds from sunrise ; cheer, but not control 
 First hours of waking, and the bigot's zeal 
 That bids men always airy raptures feel 
 Would starve the toiler, that his daily bread 
 Must wring from nature, till he can be fed 
 Like Moses in the desert, or his frame 
 A daily renovation cease to claim 
 As tribute to existence ; e'en the mind 
 Feeds not on trifles, fancy has designed 
 As garnish for her banquet, but will crave 
 For simple truth whatever gauds may wave 
 
24 ELFRIDA. 
 
 Triumphant o'er it, loathing tainted meat 
 That zeal, misguided, urges her to eat. 
 
 And if Eeligion, peaceable and pure. 
 The sons of God no longer can allure, 
 What else may win them ? Pomp her ^ells may try 
 And bind the heart obsequious to the eye, 
 Her mummers dazzle with a gaudy dress, 
 To symbol attributes our souls confess 
 Divine and awful ! Terror may beat down 
 The faith that sees a constant vengeful frown, 
 Upon the Father's visage. Spirit hand 
 May grow on fleshly arm, and wield the brand 
 Of earthly empire ; but can one of these 
 Bring that true balm of Gilead for the ease 
 Of troubled conscience, or our nature move 
 Like truth's soft whisper, "Brother, God is love?" 
 
 The bishop gazed upon the stricken man, 
 And strove to soothe him, while attendants ran 
 
25 
 
 111 haste to succour, fearing that some ill 
 Had happened to the saint, who, calm and still, 
 Now only looked his pity, and resigned 
 Sigfred to men compliant, who were blind 
 Or seeing at discretion, and whose hands 
 Held fast the youth, awaiting his commaads. 
 
 " God's hand has smitten children, to arrest 
 Eecusant wishes cherish'd in the breast 
 Of one devoted ; let us then beware 
 Of like offending. You the boy will bear 
 To blessed Mary's — ^to the Abbot's care 
 I now commit him, certain that his charge 
 "Will from this day be left no more at large. 
 Advise me when he reason shall regain, 
 I shall pray for him, and trust not in vain.'' 
 
 " What aUs him, bishop f said a well-known 
 voice, 
 And Dunstan turned, right willing to rejoice 
 
26 ELFEIDA. 
 
 A king vrith blessings ; then explained the case 
 
 With priestly candour — dwelt on the disgrace 
 
 Of broken vows, and of relentless fate 
 
 That tracked delinquents ; springing soon or late 
 
 To rend them sorely — sometimes claiming souls 
 
 Before death gave them — ^loosing what controls 
 
 Mere brutal instincts, till the wretch became 
 
 A living ruin — only man in name ; 
 
 And, like this Sigfred, must henceforth depend 
 
 On pity's moving some one to befriend. 
 
 Edgar had thought the bishop's holy hand 
 Had seized the youth as truant from his band. 
 And inly smiled to feel that none need know 
 His kingly pleasure, planned a subject's woe. 
 And thanked his saint who thus achieved the 
 
 deed 
 That secret wishes hardly had decreed ; 
 But when he heard the truth, and saw the face 
 Where blank disorder ruled in Eeason's place. 
 
ELFEIDA. ; 
 
 Strangely compiinctious grew his royal heart, 
 And nature claimed to play her fitting part. 
 " Stay, father ! I ! My lord," the earl exclaimed 
 (Who just had entered) "would my love be 
 
 blamed 
 If it should council." So the king stopped short — 
 The moment fled — repentance came to naught. 
 
 Dunstan was puzzled, looking first on one 
 And then the other — Ethelwold spoke on 
 In whispered tones to Edgar, and appeared 
 To master his emotion ; quickly cleared 
 His look of anguish, till at last a smile 
 Stole timid o'er it, as the tempter's wile 
 Pictured Elfrida, and disclosed his plan 
 That needs must win her. So the holy man 
 Learned not their secret, and could but surmise 
 A sinful something that he might surprise 
 By patient waiting. " Bishop," Edgar said, 
 " 'Twas fancy moved me ! Can you cure my head 
 
28 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Of last night's wassail ; men report your skill 
 Breathes but a wish, to master any ill 
 That flesh js heir to." Dunstan stem replied, 
 " God's judgments follow on GoU's law defied, 
 'No leeches can arrest them, and they spare 
 Kings less than peasants! Edmund's son, 
 beware !" 
 
 The king grew pallid with a ghostly fear, 
 As mem'ry's echoes thund,ered in his ear 
 Like voice prophetic ; but the earl again 
 By mockings steel'd him, so the priest in Tain 
 Beat on his conscience, and withdrew at last 
 In baffled anger, while the scorner cast 
 Eude tauntings after him. These Edgar heard 
 With chidings so Uke praises, that they stirred 
 The very dregs of venom to the lips 
 That loved to void it, and like knave, who dips 
 His hand in foulness purposely to smear 
 Some filth-abhorrer who is passing near ; 
 
ELPEIDA, 29 
 
 TMs man, whose vaunt was birth and breeding high. 
 To rid a foe, could loathsome weapons ply ; 
 Forgetting words their deepest stain impress 
 On him whose thoughts they colour or express ; 
 For he whose tongue is licensed to revile, 
 Shows by word vileness how his heart is vile. 
 
 " The gods befriend King Edgar," said the earl, 
 " And hostile fates opposing banners furl 
 When Love inspires him ; let the crop-crown choke 
 With blessed curses ! Words are never spoke 
 That men need care for ; he has gone, no doubt, 
 To plot some treason, for a swinish snout 
 Must grub for earth-nuts. Is it, then, your will 
 I start for Devon, mission'd to fulfil 
 This errand to Elfrida ?"— " Yes, to-day— 
 This hour, if may be ; once upon your way 
 I heed not Dunstan ; but he might prevent 
 Our purpose if he knew it, so invent 
 Some reason for departure, and content 
 
30 ELFEIDA. 
 
 This monkisli gossip. Bring the maiden back 
 Without his knowledge, and thou shalt not lack 
 Praise or fit recompense ; a king can bear 
 His bishop's anger so the cause be fair." 
 
 Right glad was Ethelwold ; he quickly made 
 Arrangements for his journey, and, array'd 
 In princely vesture, started on the quest. 
 As Edgar bade him ; but his look confest 
 No smiles of heart-rejoicing ; 'twas he said 
 An urgent earldom business that had made 
 Him truant to the revels. Some believed 
 He spoke them truly ; others, half deceived, 
 Tender'd mock pity ; but a wiser few, 
 Vers'd in court mysteries, assum'd they knew 
 His errand rightly, and spread such report 
 As gained quick credence from the minds that 
 
 sought 
 Not truth, but slander. Meantime Dunstan's eye 
 Dwelt on him doubtfully, but failed to spy 
 
81 
 
 The secret tliat it look'd for. Ere he went, 
 The earl came to him, and derisive bent, 
 As though for blessing ; then the bishop's hand 
 Rang on his ear — " How darest thou demand 
 God's blessing on hell's business ; false at heart ! 
 Thy hidden sin shall slay thee ; now depart — 
 Thou hast my blessing." " Aye, priest, and forget 
 No striking favours ; I may pay thee yet." 
 
 The earl was wrathful, and it fanned his ire 
 To see smiles round him ; so with eyes of fire 
 He sought a foeman, careless that a brawl 
 Was treason matter in a kingly hall ; 
 But others cared not to partake his fate, 
 And forfeit life, or freedom, or estate. 
 At Edgar's pleasure ; so they let him rage 
 TUl raging wearied, while the holy sage 
 Walked slowly homewards, and, subdued at last. 
 He called his enights and from the chamber 
 past; 
 
32 ELFRIDA. 
 
 Soon left the town, till evening northward prest, 
 Then turned again, and journey'd toward the west. 
 
 Meantime the baffled bishop was perplext 
 How to comport, and vainly sought the text 
 His deeds might preach from ; for the King, he knew 
 Although at times most easy to subdue, 
 Sad will and power to brave him ; so the rein 
 Must be drawn lightly, lest an overstrain 
 Should snap asunder, and the power be lost, 
 Whose painful gleaning all his life had cost. 
 What did he know beyond the doubt, surmise, 
 Had snatched instinctive from too conscious eyes ; 
 A pang remorse had gender'd to confess. 
 What subtle prudence hastened to repress. 
 
 Could he then wisely tax the king with ill 
 On vague suspicion, certain that his skill 
 Would force confession, and yet not offend 
 That man too deeply, he must have his friend. 
 
ELPEIDA. 33 
 
 If he controU'd the kingdom ! 'Twas indeed 
 A weighty problem, which, as solved, must lead 
 Upwards or downwards ; and so, charged with 
 
 fate, 
 Biscretion whispered, better watch and wait. 
 
 Most holy mother of a Son divine, 
 Wilt thou not hear me when the cause is thine 
 
 I now am pleading ? 
 Hear ! as I low before tMne altar bend, 
 Hear! as I pray thy prayer with mine may 
 
 blend, 
 And both united to the Throne ascend. 
 Where thy dear Son is waiting to befriend 
 
 Thine interceding. 
 
 Hear, holy mother, for I need thine aid ! 
 Hear ! for the powers of darkness are array'd, 
 
 In arms around me ! 
 I am too weak to bear this strife alone. 
 
34 ELFEIDA. 
 
 iiut thou canst stay me ; let thy might be 
 
 known ; 
 Rebuke the heathen ; let Thine arm be shown 
 Strong, swift, triumphant ; be the foes o'erthrown 
 
 That now surround me ! 
 
 Most holy mother ! have I grieved thine heart 
 By carnal life ? repentance now impart ; 
 
 In love correct me. 
 Each doubting whisper purify and still, 
 Rekindle zeal too dark, too dead, too chill ; 
 Instruct me how I should perform thy win, 
 And aid each day to grapple with each Ul ; 
 
 Still, still protect me ! 
 
 Then there was silence. But the bishop 
 prayed 
 In spirit language, till he won the aid, 
 His courage needed that his faith should ask. 
 Ere he address'd him to confront the task 
 
Those times laid on Mm, and for truth contend, 
 Such as he knew it — living but to bend 
 Opposing forces to promote his end. 
 
 For prayer of faith, to whomsoe'er addresst, 
 Reacts to sooth and fortify the breast, 
 Till he who prayeth oftentimes obtains 
 That strength of mind whose force the blessing gains, 
 Though he perceives not — hasting to declare 
 His god has granted what he asked in prayer ; 
 So evermore his sacrifice is paid 
 Before the idol, false devotion made ; 
 And he believes a tree, a stone, a thought. 
 Is that true God whose soul creation caught. 
 
ELFKIDA. 
 
 OANTO II. 
 
 Sweet summer flowers are fled the Devon hills, 
 And Nature's throne the ice-crown'd monarch fills, 
 To lavish gems upon her, till each spray, 
 Reflecting sunlight, makes a tiny day 
 Within its little orbit. Happy feet 
 Of free-born rovers pleasant music meet 
 Whene'er they press the heather, whUe each breath 
 Seems a true antidote to fever'd death 
 That poisons life in cities ; e'en the cold, 
 Which so dismays vice prematurely old, 
 But adds fresh zest, when health and youth resort 
 With light heart thither, seeking gentle sport, 
 
38 ELFEIDA. 
 
 They feel, when breeze the glowing cheek has prest, 
 A dear old friend has lovingly caress'd. 
 
 Know you that lady who this pleasant morn 
 Her golden hours from drowsy sloth has torn, 
 And now rides forth, a sylvan queen I wist. 
 With hooded' falcon perched on slender wrist ; 
 Scorning to claim the aid of second hand, 
 Her half-tamed colt to tutor and command ? 
 Is there not something in her soft blue eye 
 You would not choose to waken or defy 1 
 Though still it lures, like far transcendent light, 
 You needs must gaze on with a glad affright ; 
 And that small hand, so fitted to caress. 
 Think you that love could make its firmness less, 
 Or loose its grasp, to spare another's pain ; 
 Try, if you will, and learn such hope is vain ! 
 
 Elfrida lives to conquer and command 
 Her birthright homage ; grace, her royal wand. 
 
89 
 
 Beholding — all are subject ! Reason's pride 
 Turns childish folly lisping at her side ; 
 Believes that, earnest, she but jesting said. 
 And asks not whither so by her 'tis led ; 
 While manly courage, clothed with gentle skill, 
 But echoes grossly actions of her will ; 
 Becomes her hand, her eye, her foot, at need, 
 To do, but question nothing of the deed ; 
 So all confess her fate-embodied spell. 
 To raise man heavenward, or degrade to hell. 
 
 A new-found cnight attends her morning ride, 
 A courtly man arrived last eventide ; 
 Thane of the king he caUs him, like her sire, 
 And belted earl of great east Angle shire, 
 Close friend of Edgar's — Ethelwold by name, — 
 A man 'twere ill to flatter or to blame ; ■ 
 Fair in his speeches, stately in his mien, 
 He shamed such manhood as she yet had 
 seen; 
 
40 ELFRIDA. 
 
 Proud to all else, he bent to her alone, 
 As one whose grandeur mated with his own ; 
 Obeying, seem'd a qualified command, 
 And self-abasing shadow of the grand. 
 For he, by manifold experience taught, 
 Eeflected all the glories of a court ; 
 Till fancy deemed him lord of other sphere, 
 That fate, propitious smiling, guided here 
 To gild her being. So ambition woke. 
 To prove the Ufe of which this gallant spoke, 
 And live the centre of a gaudy ring, 
 That, clothed in sunshine, flutter'd round the 
 king. 
 
 Her father, Ordgar, worn with age and pain, 
 Scarce left the couch whereon he long had lain, 
 So charged Blfrida heedfully to tend 
 All wants or wishes of his guest and friend ; 
 Praying the earl in court'sy to excuse 
 Neglectful freedom they per force must use. 
 
ELFEIDA. 41 
 
 Then he, all smiles, and more than well content, 
 With head uncover'd, gracefully had bent 
 To kiss the hand she tender' d — ^low express'd 
 Regrets for Ordgar's aihnents, and profess'd 
 Great sorrow at intruding — for that night 
 He could not help it, but with morning light 
 He would pursue his journey. Then the maid, 
 Looking most queenly, his indulgence pray'd 
 To what was lacking. " Had he urgent need 
 For quick departure ; they were lone indeed ; 
 But if he cared for country sports and ways, 
 Means were at hand to yield some pleasant days. 
 And she would try to light them. Would he stay ?" 
 Stay ! yes, he thought, and love dear life alway, 
 If thou wilt share it ; but he nothing said 
 Of such forecasting — only gesture made 
 Denoting acquiescence, while her eyes 
 Fill'd his with rapture, when they dared to rise 
 And gaze upon her. Thus this polish'd man, 
 Who could dishonour for Elfrida plan, 
 
4 2 ELFErDA. 
 
 Saw to obey her ; fell as Sigtred fell, 
 
 A shiremaid's victim — master'd by the spell 
 
 He late had sneer'd at ; and compell'd to own, 
 
 That manhood bends where beauty rears her throne. 
 
 Their pleasant converse past the time away. 
 Till staid decorum grudged her longer stay. 
 And then they parted — she to dream of him 
 And he of her ; to rise while day was dim 
 Grey doubtful twilight — on the morning air 
 To breathe fond wishes — meeting, scarce forbear 
 Affection's greeting ; while they felt how strange 
 One's self becomes when life's ambitions change. 
 
 And now they ride together on the hills, 
 Two passion'd hearts that one emotion thrills 
 And draws together, but whose longings spring 
 From thoughts so sunder' d, truth can never bring 
 Their chords to unison ; for Love diffused 
 A subtle poison by the darts he used 
 
ELFRroA. 43 
 
 To pierce the breasts that scom'd him, and 
 
 they feel 
 No pleasing harm that Hymen's touch will heal 
 Whene'er they seek him ; but in fever'd veins 
 Self-incompleteness, germinating pains 
 Liiie drought consumes them. Ethelwold has found 
 An earthly goddess, and by passion bound 
 Lies on her altar, while Elfrida's hand 
 Seeks less the man, than what he can command ; 
 And longs to grasp the power by Mm possesst, 
 Though wreckmg all love sanctified and blest. 
 
 A hern rose near — ^he caught Elfrida's eye. 
 Who loosed the hood and bade her falcon fly ; 
 Then both stood watching as the eager bird 
 Sprang from the perch, and airy pulses stirred 
 With broad dusk pinions. Soon the quarry spied 
 His coming foe, and each manoeuvre tried 
 That nature taught him. "See," cried Ethelwold, 
 " The hern shews cunning, if your hawk is bold !' 
 
44 BLFRIDA. 
 
 " But will not 'scape her !" was the quick reply, 
 
 WhUe sudden flash of too expressive eye 
 
 Gave simple words new meaning. " There, sir 
 
 pray allow 
 My hawk is victor ; come, we follow now, 
 Or miss the struggle !" so she loosed her rein, 
 Urged her wild steed, appearing to disdain 
 All thought of safety, and so left her cnight 
 To follow and o'ertake her as he might ; 
 Joy'd as she saw the steed would not obey 
 His headlong wishes in a rocky way. 
 Sped o'er the level, and alono' was found 
 Where the dead hern lay stricken to the ground. 
 
 With merry cry from off the colt she sprung, 
 Forgot his wildness, and the bridle flung 
 A moment from her ; then, on sudden thought. 
 Tried to regain it, but the brute had caught 
 New sense of freedom^ so he bounded on, 
 Escaped her clutch, and instantly was gone. 
 
ELFEroA. 45 
 
 Eluded Ethelwold, then hitched his rein, 
 And fell a useless cripple on the plain. 
 
 " The fiend possess thee !" Ethelwold exclaimed. 
 Then for EKrida courteous speeches framed 
 As he dismounted. " Lady, may I lend 
 What you are lacking, and disaster mend 
 As well as may be ?" " Think you is it wise 
 To trust me with him, Earl ? — he may despise 
 My girlish hand, so weak to what was known 
 When he obey'd a master's in your own ; 
 Will you then risk it?" "Lady, if you fear, 
 I still will guide him." Then upon his ear 
 Rang silver laughter, as Elfrida took 
 Her seat unaided — quick the bridle shook, 
 And fearless started, urging on the steed 
 O'er the smooth green sward at his utmost 
 
 speed, 
 Ere Ethelwold could stay her ; cross'd the plain 
 To its far border, then returned again 
 
46 
 
 ELFKIDA. 
 
 To where he waited, curbing in the horse 
 To sober pace by firmly gentle force. 
 
 "There, Earl, I hare not harmed him! You'll 
 forgive 
 My wayward fancy, knowing that I live 
 Among wild Devon people, who forget 
 All thoughts but one whenever they are set 
 On steed of right good mettle ! Do yon mind 
 If stUl I ride him, till our luck shall find 
 A villain of my father's, and obtain 
 Some sort of beast to take me home again. 
 And will you hood that falcon ? she has fed 
 Until a babe might stroke her drowsy head, 
 Yet risk no fingers." So the earl obeyed. 
 And did all biddings of this Devon maid; 
 Pluck'd flowers to please her ; aU she praised, admired. 
 And seemed to live, but when her smile inspired. 
 Forgot aU distance in the blissful pride 
 Of being groom, and walking at her side ; 
 
ELFRIDA, 47 
 
 So reached the castle ere he thought it near, 
 And sigh'd to see its lofty walls appear; 
 For one blest instant in his arms received, 
 Yet scarce her presence dreamily believed. 
 
 "Tour pardon, Earl! But really, v?hile we 
 talked, 
 All else passed from me ; I forgot you walked, 
 And so neglected courtesy ; but now 
 It is too late to mend it anyhow 
 Except by verbal penance. WiU you give 
 Elfrida absolution, and believe 
 The world you told of seemed so fair a thing? 
 Her thoughts flew thither on instinctive wing, 
 And came not back to Devon, till she found 
 A gentle cnight had placed her on its ground," 
 Then turning round, she bade a server lead 
 The horse to stable^— she would see him feed 
 Some minutes later ; and her hand caress'd 
 The steed whose master envied him as blest. 
 
48 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Perplexing doubts and half-admitted fears 
 Assail tlie Earl who, 'wUdered, sees and hears 
 His goddess near him. Should he dare forget 
 • A promise to King Edgar — ^boldly set 
 Love over loyalty, and seek the prize 
 He knew most precious in a monarch's eyes. 
 Whose thirst was beauty, and whose hand could give 
 A crown to grace it. Would their friendship live 
 Beyond such treason, and Elfrida, too. 
 What, if through babbl'd word she ever knew 
 He thus had robbed her. Could his love repay 
 The glitt'ring bauble it had snatched away? 
 Tet Edgar might not wed her ; nay, had sent 
 His Thane with lighter mission and -intent. 
 But if he saw her — knew her pride and worth, 
 Then thoughts impure were stifled at their birth ; 
 The king would offer all — his heart, his hand — 
 With rank and might, to favour his demand ; 
 And a mere earl would pale before her eyes 
 As stars grow dim and mean, when suns arise. 
 
BLFEIDA. 49 
 
 Yet fate must be ; what boot to count the..cost, 
 Life's salt were gone if Love's true gem were lost ! 
 Kings were but men — all maids were free to win, 
 And lawful wooing savour'd not of sin. 
 Then let the future yield whate'er it may, 
 He would secure joy's harvest of to-day. 
 
 Tiey entered to the hall, and Ordgar found, 
 Around whose neck Elfrida's arms soon wound 
 Affection's circle, while her lips imprest 
 Seals to the welcome that her word confest, 
 And looks illumin'd. " Peace now, prithee, child, 
 I scarce can bear your roughness ;" then he smiled 
 And look'd toward Ethelwold. "Your pardon, 
 
 Thane ; 
 I cannot rise to greet you, for this pain 
 Binds to my settle ; this our babe, you see. 
 Forgets politeness when she thinks of me. 
 Eight welcome still to Devon ! Have you yet 
 Seen aught you would not willingly forget, 
 
 E 
 
50 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Or does our wildness fret you ?" " I have seen 
 More than I hoped for, and your child has 
 
 been 
 The Kght of Devon's beauty, sunning all 
 With her sweet presence ; I shall oft recall 
 To-day with pleasure, when affairs of state 
 Press burdens on me, and impatient wait 
 Till I can flee them." " Well, then, stay awhile — 
 Forget the court ; in charity beguile 
 Our tedious dulness, and, as poor return, 
 Accept the thanks such courtesy will earn." 
 
 Meantime BUrida in the household stirred, 
 A soul of order felt, but seldom heard ; 
 And knowing few can brook a needless fast 
 While these conversed had order'd their repast. 
 She now announced it, with a little jest, 
 About the steed they'd served at her behest 
 Before his master ; he abeady knew 
 Her step from others, and, as she withdrew. 
 
51 
 
 Whmed to recall her. " Others, too, would whine. 
 
 If by blest chance they rightly could divine 
 
 It pleased Elfrida ;" and the courtier bow'd 
 
 To his enslaver, while his looks avow'd 
 
 More than his words had told her. " Earl, your wit 
 
 Outruns your reason — we must find a bit 
 
 Wherewith to curb it ; meantime, take your seat 
 
 Beside the earlman, and attempt to eat 
 
 As men are wont to." Ethelwold complied. 
 
 Enforcing her to take the dexter side 
 
 As most of honour ; then the feast began 
 
 Of Devon plenty, and through courses ran 
 
 That seemed unending. From the proffer'd spit 
 
 Each carved in turn the joint that garnish'd it, 
 
 As fancy prompted, while the ale and mead 
 
 In genial tides responded to their need. 
 
 And brim'd the silver goblets. They who served 
 
 Were clad in splendid raiment, and observed 
 
 Due forms of reVrence, as, with noiseless skill. 
 
 They did the pleasure of superior will ; 
 
52 ELFKIDA. 
 
 Oaring each wish should be at once supplied, 
 Nor aught delayed till pleasure was denied. 
 
 So they were feasted till there came an end 
 Of hunger's craving, and light words might blend 
 la other converse than the praise of meat 
 That lay before and tempted them to eat 
 Because 'twas dainty ; then a minstrel brought 
 A gold-strung harp and breathed a pleasant thought,. 
 That, link'd with sweetness, Stole upon the ear, 
 lake voice of presence that unseen stole near, 
 And gave fresh meaning to make rdusic dear :— 
 
 Weep not the flow'rs that perish'd, 
 
 For Spring-time comes again, 
 When all you loved and cherish'd 
 
 Hope will not seek in vain ; 
 But twine anew each fairy bloom. 
 That, living, waits in nature's womb, 
 
 Till Spring-time comes again. 
 
ELFBIDA. 53 
 
 Not half the winged nations 
 
 In leafless groves remain, 
 No plaintive, trill'd narrations 
 
 Of tyrant love complain ; 
 But wait, and you wUl hear, ere long, 
 Each echo waken'd with their song-, 
 
 When Spring-time comes again. 
 
 Then, while our days are dreary, 
 
 And joys are sought in vain, 
 When nights are long and weary, 
 
 And dark forebodings reign ; 
 Our hearts should listen to the voice 
 Whose whisper bids our hope rejoice 
 
 That Spring-time comes again. 
 
 The minstrel ceased, and on the table placed 
 His harp, ere silence had the soul effaced 
 His touch created ; then Elfrida pray'd 
 The earl would take it ; so the earl obey'd. 
 
54 ELFRIDA. 
 
 And sang to please her, while he watched the 
 
 face 
 On which approval he so hoped to trace : — 
 
 How shall the heart confess 
 
 Air that it feels ; 
 All it would fain express, 
 
 Thinking of you ? 
 Feelings iu fond excess 
 
 No word reveals, 
 But that which utters less, 
 When it should all confess, 
 
 Can it be true ? 
 
 Waken, oh voice of love, 
 
 Speak thou for me ; 
 All tender pulses move 
 
 Life ever knew ; 
 Thoughts that with bondage strove. 
 
 Let them be free ; 
 
ELPEIDA. 55 
 
 Bid her thy spirit prove, 
 And, hearing voice of love, ^ 
 
 Own it is true ! 
 
 Break ev'ry baser chain, 
 
 Bind on thine own 
 Links that new glory gain, 
 
 Lady, from you ; 
 Yet mast I e'er remain 
 
 Heart-bound alone, 
 Lady, pleads love in vain, 
 Wilt thou not wear his chain 
 
 Golden and true ? 
 
 Then there was silence, and Elfrida's eye 
 Sank before Ethelwold's, that claimed reply 
 To soul expression — ^tremulous she spake 
 Words of sweet vagueness, only meant to break 
 The still which pained her ; sudden thought to ask 
 The earhnan's needing ; told of household task 
 
66 klfkiha. 
 
 Too long neglected ; met her lover's glance 
 With spealdng eyes, love-lighted to enhance 
 His hope's fulfilment; blushing, bent her 
 
 head, 
 And in confusion turned away and fled. 
 
 So was Elfrida won, and taught to own 
 That subtle transport proudly felt and known 
 By souls imperious who consent to win 
 Through being conquered,' and new life begin 
 In life surrendered. Bthelwold might claim 
 Elfrida's promise and a husband's name 
 Whene'er he listed, so he could obtain 
 The king's consent to spousals of his Thane 
 As usage ordered ; that, the earlman thought, 
 Would be accorded soon as it was sought 
 By Edgar's foster brother, so the pair 
 Might wed at Easter, pass the summer there 
 With him in Devon, and when autumn came, 
 Repair to court and proper station claim. 
 
57 
 
 Not so, deem'd Ethel wold ; he knew too well 
 King Edgar's nature, though he dared not tell 
 His donbts to Ordgar, and his conscience smote 
 Hard blows on crown of rapture, to denote 
 How fraU the prize of treason, which a word. 
 Might give to those wild ruins that he heard 
 Scream in the night-wind, like the voice of foes 
 Whose fangs but waited until blank repose 
 Had left him powerless ; yet this man had won 
 What all men sigh, for, and a Uf e begun 
 That all men envy. How, then, could he shrink 
 Because his pathway lay along the brink 
 Of sheer destruction ? He must take his course. 
 And steel his heart to danger or remorse 
 While he pursued it. So he said adieu ! 
 And went from Devon ere Elfrida knew 
 A doubt had cross'd him-Trjourneyed to the court, 
 Where oft the maiden foUow'd him in thought 
 And shared his grandeur, which she fpndly drew 
 In brightest colours that her fancy knew. 
 
58 
 
 ELFRIDA. 
 
 He sought the king with anxious beating heart, 
 Rehearsing phrase his news might best impart. 
 And nursing hopes that saints he rarely pray'd, 
 Would vouch their presence by material aid, 
 And show that wisdom might a spirit deem 
 No vague creation of poetic dream ; 
 But true existence, perfected and blest, 
 That carnal sense might evidence and test. 
 
 An angry voice was speaking when he came ; 
 That voice l^was Dunstan's, and it dared to 
 
 blame 
 Great Edgar's doings, while the king sat mute, 
 And heard accusings, truth could not refute. 
 Or cunning parry. " I will not condone 
 A deed so hateful ! What ! the Church's own 
 Not safe from outrage ? thou shalt not profane 
 The cloister scatheless ! she thy lust has ta'en, 
 Thou knew'st devoted, so 'tis vain to plead 
 Unwitting sacrilege, or cloak thy deed 
 
BLFKIDA. 59 
 
 As youthful folly. Man of sin, submit — 
 Make restitution — and by penance fit 
 Proclaim contrition ! or, by Mary's shriue^ 
 Our Church's ban, pronounced on thee and thine. 
 Shall strip thy glories, till, no more a king, 
 Thy slaves shall spurn thee as a loathsome thing." 
 
 Then Dunstan turned, and seeing Ethelwold, 
 He deem'd accomplice ; holy thunders roU'd 
 Loud pealing o'er him, but the monarch's voice 
 Proclaim'd him guiltless, and forthwith made choice 
 Of dutiful submission ; so the priest 
 Subdued his anger till the tumult ceas'd 
 Of chidings most unseemly, and at last 
 The saint content, from royal presence pass'd. 
 
 The earl stood waiting for the monarch's will 
 Who long sat silent, moodily, and still, 
 Like one who heeded nothing ; but at last 
 He raised his head, and searching glances cast 
 
60 ELFRroA. 
 
 Around the chamber. " Bthelwold, you heard 
 What Dunstan said,, and why his rage is stirred 
 So hot against me." '' He appeared, my lord. 
 To think it hard you tax'd his secret hoard 
 Of holy Tirgins." " Brother, do not jest, 
 But give me counsel, and thy words invest 
 With sober meaning. I have scorn'd the fane 
 Of goodly Wilton, and Wulfreda ta'en,. 
 Because she pleased me — Dimstan, as you saw. 
 Storms like a demon, and upholds, the law 
 Against my pleasure ; so I must resign 
 This gentle charmer, and my will. incline 
 To do his bidding, if you cannot make 
 A smoother pathway." " It were hard to break 
 The word you plighted !" " That could never be, 
 Tor right of king were too immoral plea 
 'Gainst such an obligation." " Then, again. 
 His saintship sometimes does not storm in vain. 
 As Edwin found lit in a cause as fair 
 As your Wulfreda's ; true, 'tis hard to bear 
 
ELFKIDA. 61 
 
 A bishop's anger !" Then the monarch's look 
 A moment darken' d, and his purpose shook 
 At thought of kingship slighted ; but the light 
 forsook his eye as conscience rose in might 
 Before the sinner ; so the holy chain, 
 Whose links, half parted, bound the king again 
 With that strange power, impalpable and vast. 
 Whose fearful vagueness shadows from the 
 past. 
 
 The earl then spoke about Ms journey west 
 And of Elfrida, who, as he profess'd. 
 Was much o'errated ; lovely as to face, 
 But so misshapen and devoid of grace 
 He wonder'd men could laud her. But the sire 
 Had wealth sufficient to provoke desire 
 In lacklands like himself — content to take 
 A crooked pitcher for the gilding's sake ; 
 Surpassing beauty was a kingly quest, 
 He must seek profit, and forego the rest 
 
62 ELFBIDA. 
 
 If e'er he married. " Why not then secure 
 
 This Devon heiress, if you can endure 
 
 A dearth of beauty?" "He were bold that dared 
 
 Aspire to one for whom IQng Edgar cared, 
 
 E'en though unworthy." " Your report had cured 
 
 My passing fancy, had I not endured 
 
 Enough already ? She is none of mine ! 
 
 Go, if you will, and flow'ry speeches twine 
 
 To snare the shiremaid — you have free consent 
 
 To woo and win.'' " My lord, I am content 
 
 With this, your pleasure ; it will build again 
 
 A ruined house, for which it had been pain 
 
 To tax your bounty!" "That, good earl, you 
 
 know 
 Has long been promised! Tell me, can ;^ou 
 
 show 
 No honest course with Dunstan ?" " It were best 
 To hear his purpose — ^let the matter rest 
 Till he declare it ! Once the sentence past, 
 His power is ended, for he may not cast 
 
ELFEIDA. _ 63 
 
 A second arrow, and we then can seek 
 
 To draw the barb, or make the venom weak." 
 
 The earl withdrew ; the king remained to say 
 Psalms, aves, paternosters ; all the day 
 No soul came near him, but at eve one brought 
 A meal from Dunstan of a lighter sort 
 Than Edgar favour'd. This the server said 
 The saint denied himself, that he might aid 
 His son more surely ; it was his intent 
 The long dark hours in fasting should be spent 
 Before the altar ; after morning mass 
 He would appoint the penance. He, alas ! 
 Was sorely tempted by the wish to spare 
 One so beloved. Would Edgar breathe a prayer 
 That earthly love no longer might intrude, 
 'Nov justice marr'd, leave evil unsubdued? 
 
 So the sad king was fain to be content, 
 And stay his hunger with the porridge meant 
 
64 ELFEIDA. 
 
 To serve ascetic. How could he complain 
 
 That holy Dnnstan labour'd thus to gain 
 
 His sin's remission. If a guiltless friend 
 
 Thus suffered with him for unselfish end, 
 
 Was it not plain that Satan had devised 
 
 Some harm more dreadful than his thought 
 
 surmised ? 
 What if the Fury evil deeds awake 
 Pursued his footsteps, certain to o'ertake 
 When life was ended ! 'Twas a friend indeed 
 Who strove to save him ; irho would see him freed 
 From pending dangers, so the monarch knelt, 
 Pray'd for the bishop, and submissive felt 
 To do all penance if he could but save 
 Hope from destruction yawning in the grave. 
 
 When morning came the holy altar shone 
 In fullest glory ; by it on his throne 
 The saint was seated, wearing on his head 
 An orphrey'd mitre, and the pall was spread 
 
ELFRIDA. 65 
 
 Upon his shoulders, while the sapphire ring 
 
 On finger annular might memory bring 
 
 Of Christ's espousals, or the earthly pride 
 
 Of that great Church men honor'd as His bride. 
 
 The amice, symbol of salvation's helm, 
 
 Vied with the chasuble, till both o'erwhelm 
 
 By splendour of apparel ; on his breast 
 
 Shone jeweU'd rational, as to attest 
 
 Descent from Aaron's priesthood, while his 
 
 hand 
 Grasp'd the crooked staff of pastoral command. 
 
 The bishop rose, and strict in order due 
 
 Offered the holy sacrifice anew 
 
 For man's salvation, then he called by name 
 
 The royal sinner, and King Edgar came 
 
 Humble as subject — at the septum lay 
 
 In servile posture, seeking words to pray 
 
 For needed absolution, whUe the saint, 
 
 Erect in holiness, proclaimed the taint 
 p 
 
66 ' ELFEIDA. 
 
 That sin had fix'd upon him ; then with voice 
 More soft and hopeful, bade his son rejoice 
 In deep-like penance for a week of years, 
 With heartfelt grief, attested by his tears. 
 
 King Edgar, rising, put his ai-ms aside. 
 And with much groaning changed his robes of pride 
 For hair-cloth garments ; then with naked feet 
 Walked, staff in hand, along the public street 
 To his own court-yard, that must serve him now 
 As hall and chamber ! there began his vow 
 Of prayer incessant ; lay upon no bed — 
 Entered no bath — ate herbs and bitter bread 
 Without complaining. But 'twas very strange 
 To be thus mortified, and soon a change 
 Of state grew needful ; so he call'd his friend, 
 And bade him scheme a somewhat speedy end. 
 
 Twelve good true men were gather'd for his aid. 
 Who fasted with him till the sun had made 
 
BLEKIDA. 67 
 
 Three journies o'er the heav'ns ! Then other 
 
 men, 
 Who numbered fully seven times twelve times ten, 
 Came and did likevfise, to complete the days 
 Of seven years' penance, and their monarch raise 
 Again to glory ; so, within a week, 
 The erring king might absolution seek 
 From all transgressions, and the saint was fain 
 To give grudged blessings to his son again. 
 While Edgar learnt that kmgs had power to win 
 Right easy pardon e'en for deadly sin. 
 
 Some three weeks later, from the royal town, 
 Rode the glad Earl, and took his journey down 
 Again to Devon, but with larger state. 
 And fit attendance for a man so great. 
 In Edgar's favour. His Blfrida gave 
 Eight loving welcome to a Thane so brave 
 In all life's seemings ; heard, with happy pride, 
 What small distinctions would his wife divide 
 
68 ELFKIDA. 
 
 From even Edgar's ! and, till he should wed, 
 Who but herself would be the queenly head 
 Of grace and honour ; e'en the proudest dames 
 Would bow before and recognize her claims 
 As wife of Ethelwold, the brother friend, 
 Before whose wisdom Edgar loved to bend. 
 
 Henceforth the Earl pursued enchanted way 
 Amid Love's roses, while their queen each day 
 Grew fairer to him, and absorbed all thought. 
 Till he had none for others. Peace he bought 
 For waring conscience, by the loving zeal 
 That prized his stolen treasure ; she should feel 
 The strength of man's affection, till her own 
 Grew to its likeness, and his love alone 
 Seemed all her needing ; nay, true wife would 
 
 cling 
 More close to him she knew had braved a king, 
 A.nd risked his all to win her. Thus time fled 
 Till Easter came and saw Elfrida wed. 
 
ELFBIDA. 69 
 
 Merrily rang each village bell 
 
 Upon her wedding day, 
 Merrily rang each village bell 
 As though it never again could tell, 
 In sad deep tones of the measur'd knell, 
 How hopes, like the wither'd blossoms, 
 fell. 
 
 That death-blast snatch'd away. 
 
 Oaily, before her fairy feet. 
 
 They scatter'd pleasant flowers. 
 Quickly, beneath her crushing feet. 
 Each bloom must a fragrant ruin meet, 
 And give its life, ere it rose to greet, 
 Like holy breath of an incense sweet, 
 
 Befitting sacred hours. 
 
 Oladly she sought the sacred fane, 
 
 And breathed a solemn vow ; 
 Gladly she left the sacred fane, 
 
70 ELPEIDA. 
 
 And pass'd down the flowery path again, 
 Where bruised wooers that sigh'd in Tain, 
 Dishonour'd once, had unheeded lain, 
 For none could prize them now. 
 
 The Spring was past, and summer days were 
 flown; 
 The Earl went up to court, but went alone, 
 And left Elfrida, who might hardly bear 
 A lengthen'd journey, or withhold the care 
 That Ordgar needed. He had tax'd his strength 
 To grace her wedding, and his powers at length 
 Completely faU'd him ; he perchance might live 
 To bless her infant, but the leech could give 
 No hope of long endurance ; thus 'twere vain 
 To dream of courts, for she must still remain 
 A stranger to them. So her husband went 
 When duty caU'd him ; while she, iU content, 
 Kemain'd in Devon, hoping that the spring 
 Would give her freedom, and ambition wing. 
 
ELFKIDA, 71 
 
 The Autumn wore out slowly, as the nights 
 Stole hours that once were day, and starry lights 
 Linger'd through what was morning, while the 
 
 frost 
 Lay scatter'd round, like ashes Nature tost 
 Upon her summer garments, as she wail'd 
 The loving songsters her affection fail'd 
 To find in grove or meadow. With the breeze 
 Danced wanton leaves, that quitting parent trees 
 For liberty unbounded, down their way 
 Rush'd to wild end of ruin and decay 
 In some lone furrow, while the blast 
 Mock'd the vain comrade that aside was cast. 
 
 Next Winter came, to bring an infant year, 
 And infant son, that vext his mother's ear 
 With needless waUings : then the old man died. 
 And gave no blessing, though Elfrida tried 
 To make h^m know his grandchild ; so that time 
 Was sad and long in Devon, and the chime 
 
72 BLFRIDA. 
 
 That told its flight was hateful, till it brought 
 The husband-father from the distant court. 
 
 Then there were chidings of his long delay ; 
 And prompt excuse to justify his stay 
 While Edgar needed, but the little child 
 Was seen and fondled, till his ways beguil'd 
 The mother's sadness, and her anger still'd 
 Against his father ; so the house was fiU'd 
 Again with concord, as the man and wife 
 Seemed truly one, without a chord of strife 
 To jar between them. But the serpent Doubt 
 Had glided in, and stealthy crawl'd about 
 Beneath their roses, busy aU the while 
 Collecting venom, fitted to defile 
 The pulses of affection, when his tooth 
 Might pierce the surface that resembled truth. 
 
 All through the Spring the Earl at home remained 
 And, present still, Blfrida's wish restrained 
 
ELPEIDA. 73 
 
 To wifely duties ; e'en the Summer, too, 
 
 Past somewhat smoothly, though the husband grew 
 
 Anxious and troubl'd, and disUk'd to speak 
 
 Of her departure. He must shortly seek 
 
 His post and duties, but would quick return 
 
 To happy Devon. She should often learn 
 
 How he was speeding; true he was most grieved 
 
 To part from dear ones, but so late bereaved. 
 
 What else could be. His bird must not be brought 
 
 In raven plumage to a joyous court 
 
 Where gaudy Noughts would shame her. Shepfjttst burst 
 
 Like new lit sun on those who saw her first 
 
 In royal precincts — ^let another year 
 
 Be safely gone, and then he should not fear 
 
 To take her with him. This Elfrida heard. 
 
 With strange misgivings, that her lord deferred 
 
 Her advent with good reason ; so her mind 
 
 Took secret counsel with her doubts, to find 
 
 What he kept hidden from her, but nought said 
 
 That told she watched him, musing of the dread 
 
74 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Chance word admitted ; thus the days went on, 
 Till Autumn came, and Ethelwold was gone. 
 
 Gone, and alone ! to find what joy he may 
 In royal smiles whose warmth has pass'd away ; 
 To feel the friend whose bearing scarce is changed, 
 Grown heartless now, or hopelessly estranged ; 
 To catch the glance triumphant envy cast, 
 As slander whisper'd something when he past. 
 To dread the praise Elfrida's beauty claim' d; 
 To feel convicted, when he heard her named, 
 And learn how true the lesson Time has taught — 
 All good is ill that falsehood ever brought. 
 
ELFRIDA. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 The busy tongues of brain-deficient heads 
 Oft tangle life until the vital threads 
 Are past Time's weaving. So the work is marr'd 
 That cunning order'd, and essay'd to guard 
 From hands intrusive, or the fatal breath 
 That envy voideth, when, like coward Death, 
 She dare not face the victim ; so must gain 
 A felon triumph, as her right to reign. 
 
 These busy tongues in Edgar's ears rehearst 
 The Earl's good fortune, but the King at first 
 
76 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Scom'd all as slander on a friend he knew 
 Prom very childhood ; yet the story grew 
 Familiar through repeating, till it seemed 
 A baneful light that on their kinship gleamed, 
 To shew it worthless. Soon the wish grew strong 
 To see BIfrida, and repay the wrong, 
 If wrong were done him. One long summer day 
 A hunt was plann'd in royal chase, that lay 
 Far west in Devon, " Near your house, good Earl, 
 May we not call, if bnt to view the pearl 
 You guard so closely," and the earl replied, 
 " All mine is yours, my lord ; 'twill be our pride 
 To serve your pleasure." Then, right sick at heart, 
 Pray'd Edgar's leave that he might first depart 
 To warn his household — won a slow consent, 
 Then, half despairing from the presence, went 
 To meet Elfrida, and, with shame, confess 
 How he had wi'ong'd her, — made her glory less 
 Through selfish fondness ; and his prize secured, 
 Had held it trembling, joyless, and immured. 
 
BLrEIDA. 77 
 
 He found her brooding o'er the lonely state 
 In which he left her, with the tares of hate 
 Half-choking Love's poor harvest. " So, my lord, 
 What brings you hither ? Can the Mng afford, 
 At last, to spare my husband ? " " Yes, at last ; 
 But, dear Elfrida, let the past be past ; 
 'Twas love that wronged you, — now let love atone 
 For Love's transgression." " Does Love joy alone, 
 And leave his mate to sorrow ? " " Did she know 
 What pain it was to leave her, then her woe 
 Would be his pang who left her." And he prest 
 His fair young wife upon the anxious breast 
 That longed, but feared, to trust her. Still she lay 
 As one who meant that doubt should pass away 
 Before bright frankness ; but she watched the while 
 To snare hid purpose, and, beneath her smile. 
 Lurked subtle instinct reading from his face 
 How hope and fear alternately had place 
 As he beheld her ! S'oon, with mute demand. 
 Warm lips assailed him, while a gentle hand 
 
78 BLFEIDA. 
 
 Crept fondly round as seeking to express 
 Joy, pardon, love, by one surcharged caress. 
 
 Then burst the bank that pent emotions tide, 
 And Hope o'ermastered cold distrust and pride 
 That sought to slay him. " I was wrong to doubt ; 
 Come here who will, our love is fenced about 
 By trusty bulwarks, and no gauds will move 
 My own Elfrida." " Did you fear my love? 
 Whom, when, or wherefore ? kisses shall remove 
 The veil that shrouds my husband ! Let me hear 
 What jealous phantom pictured him less dear 
 Than e'er he has been ! " " Wife, I fear the king ! 
 When he shall see thee, it may ruin bring, 
 Because I loved thee." " Why, he gave consent 
 To our betrothal, and was well content 
 That you should wed me." " True, but then he thought 
 Tour charms unduly lauded by report, 
 That made him send me hither, to behold, 
 Love, woo, and win thee." " I need scarce be told 
 
ELPEIDA. 79 
 
 'Twas thou dispraised me,'' "Aye, for thou wert 
 
 lost 
 If he beheld thee ! less than truth had cost 
 My heart's affections, so I dared malign 
 Thy beauty to him, and now call thee mine. 
 Thou lovest me still, Elfrida ? " " Love thee still ! 
 Why dost thou ask me ; is there other ill 
 That fear is hiding ? " "If the king were here, 
 What were thy husband ! should I not appear 
 Less than I have been ?" " If king Edgar came ! 
 Why prate such folly ? Why not be the same 
 Thou ever hast been." Then she rose and gazed 
 Full in his face, till pride triumphant blazed 
 In all her features. " So thy words are true ! 
 King Edgar comes ! what would'st thou have me do 
 To serve my husband, — ^to repay the zeal 
 That cared so truly for Elfrida's weal ? " 
 
 Then, in the madness of his fear, he pray'd 
 Her worth and beauty might not be display'd 
 
80 
 
 ELFEIUA. 
 
 In all their grandeur, but aa artful dress 
 Of careless meanness make her glory less 
 Through feign'd distortion. And the wife replied 
 By subtle speeches, that no wish denied 
 Which might content him ; so he went his way. 
 Hoping her truth, but longing for the day 
 His guest should be departed, for he knew 
 Kings, in love's pastime, deem success their due. 
 
 " So then, my lord, I win the truth at last. 
 And with it freedom, for thy power is past — 
 EKrida reigns ! thy queen commands ! and thou, 
 Who feign'd submission, shall be taught to bow 
 In truth before her — to endure the frown 
 That fits the brow defrauded of a crown 
 By slave who should have brought it. Thou hast 
 
 dared 
 Think lower station could suffice, if shared 
 By him whose love degraded ! thou shalt learn 
 Truth, honour, valour, are the gifts that earn 
 
ELFEIDA. 81 
 
 A woman's lore and favour. Hide my charms 
 From Edgar's glance, because their wealth alarms 
 The man who gained them wrongly! wear 
 
 disguise 
 To make me hateful in a monarch's eyes 
 When first he comes to greet me ! this is then 
 The promised homage of all courtly men, 
 And rule o'er noble ladies. Hide, indeed ! 
 As sunshine in the diamond, that the greed 
 Of wealthy souls may waken, and inspire 
 The wish to own what stimulates desire ! 
 
 " The king comes here against my husband's will, 
 Who fears our meeting, so would keep me still 
 'Mured as I have been. That shall never be. 
 If Nature's gifts suffice to set me free, 
 Wibh art to aid them. But, good Earl, as yet 
 Deem thy fond wife unwiUing to forget 
 The troth she plighted ; she must not complain. 
 Although her tyrant broke love-welded chain, 
 
82 ELFRIDA. 
 
 Then flung his burden on her ; she must bear 
 Because he wills it, proud, content to share 
 What joy he brings her, and all else forbear. 
 
 " 'Twas fraud obtained what gives him right to 
 sway; 
 I aid that fraud, consenting to obey, 
 When truth unveils it. Can it be a sin 
 To take the prize that nature bids me win 
 Through her endowments ? Can I deem 
 This man more kingly than his king would seem, 
 If we were mated 1 Had he bravely dared 
 His treason's danger, that had half repaired 
 The wrong he did me, and we two perchance 
 Had soared together till we lived to glance 
 On no one higher. But a coward's part 
 Suits not my nature, and affronts the heart 
 That asks not what may harm it, when the 
 
 mind 
 Seeks in each chance the glory it would find." 
 
ELFEIDA. 8S 
 
 Thus mused the woman, in a wrathful mood 
 House business foster'd rather than subdued ; 
 So many things were needed, and the hours 
 So very short, that, measured by her powers, 
 The task seem'd endless. She could not prepare 
 All as she wished, before the king came there ; 
 But still she labour'd — working with a will 
 That would accomplish purpose of her skill. 
 Loaf-eaters strew'd fresh rushes on the floor. 
 Which maidens smooth' d, and gaily powder'd o'er 
 With flowers sweet scented — table boards were laid 
 Upon their fitting trestles, and array'd 
 With snowy linen — ^then for every guest 
 A welcome-loaf (with holy sign imprest) 
 Was placed upon it — golden cups for wine, 
 And crystal goblets on their sides reeUne, 
 With ale-horns mingled ; while in paUs at hand 
 The foaming tides awaited thirst's demand. 
 Elfrida thus a royal dinner spread. 
 Then from the hall to secret toilet fled — 
 
84 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Plied every art, and burst upon the scene, 
 Like eastern monarch's newly wedded queen ; 
 Glanced on her husband with a look whose pride 
 At once subdued him, scorn'd him, and defied ; 
 Then dared to greet his monarch as her peer, 
 Who wond'ring saw, but scarce believed her near ; 
 She seemed too like a dream's aerial birth 
 That breath must scatter when he woke to earth. 
 
 No heed took he of gold-embroidered vest, 
 Nor jeweU'd wreath, that on her forehead prest. 
 The diamond necklace seemed a mean array 
 Where golden tress in twisted glory lay, 
 And zephyrs woo'd to snatch perfume away. 
 Fair costly bands clung fondly round each wrist. 
 Like morning beams that snowy wi-eath have kist. 
 And rooted there in glory still exist 
 Her veil as haze, light spread o'er heaving sea 
 Half hid twin waves where Love sailed joyously, 
 And mirror'd Paradise glad Hope could see 
 
ELFEIDA. 85 
 
 Each charm was lit, warm'd, brigliten'd by the eye, 
 
 In whose bhie heaven life's glory seem'd to lie, 
 
 But counted nothing untU soul imprest 
 
 A grandeur worthy of the life express' d ; 
 
 And shone through all like orb whose innate light 
 
 Could make surroundings by reflection, bright. 
 
 Though much the monarch thought, he nothing 
 said: 
 And but Elfrida his emotion read ; 
 The rest heard courtly speeches, which deceived 
 Even the husband, who with joy beUeved 
 The danger passing, and an effort made 
 His haunting dread, to trample or evade, — 
 Play'd the glad host who honoured guest attends. 
 And feels exalted in the eyes of friends, 
 Enjoy'd his banquet though the monarch shared, 
 And once again a brother's freedoms dared ; 
 Shone in wit's splendour, then, to please the king, 
 Oall'd for her lute, and bade Elfrida sing. 
 
86 
 
 ELFEIDA. 
 
 She made excuses in a bashful way, 
 
 Till he, insisting, bade his wife obey, 
 
 When she, though feigning coy resistance, 
 
 still 
 Bent o'er the lute, and yielding to his will, 
 Sang as commanded, in a clear sweet tone, 
 Words she once made to sing for him alone : — 
 
 What must a lover be, 
 If he would hope to see 
 Favour from me ? 
 Noble, of high degree, 
 
 Taintless in bravery. 
 Friend of the good and free. 
 
 Scorning all knavery, 
 Loving but me. 
 
 What shall a lover gain. 
 Winning the right to reign 
 Fondly with me ? 
 
ELFEIDA. i 
 
 He shall not seek in vain, 
 Truth free from doubt or stain. 
 Pity to sooth his pain, 
 Smiles when his hope shall wain, 
 Fond love from me. 
 
 But, if he lived to prove 
 False to his word and love, 
 
 Traitor to me, 
 Then, as the powers above 
 Adam from Eden drove, 
 Vengeance should him reprove, 
 Lone shoald the false one rove, 
 
 Banished from me. 
 
 The chords were silent, and the song was 
 done, 
 But her sweet music stiU appear'd to run 
 Wherever thought could wander, and each word 
 Breathed present rapture, rather felt than heard 
 
88 
 
 ELFEIDA. 
 
 By him whose soul absorbed it, and would fain 
 
 Its mystic charm as spell of life retain. 
 
 " Thanks, lady, thanks," was all he softly said, 
 
 And scarce his eyes one covert moment fed 
 
 Upon her beauty, ere he turned away, 
 
 And spoke to Ethelwold. " Good Earl, to-day 
 
 You feast me bravely ; by your lady's leave 
 
 I will provide to-morrow, and relieve 
 
 Her cares ■ from service ; will she deign to 
 
 grace 
 A Sylvan hall erected in the chace 
 For our diversions? 'Tis a mean affair, 
 But royal welcome waits Elfrida there." 
 
 The hall is silent ! All the guests are gone, 
 But troubled Ethelwold still lingers on 
 To drain another goblet ere again 
 He seeks Elfrida ! Shall he dare complain. 
 She disobey'd him ; true, no harm appeared. 
 But she had done the very thing he feared 
 
ELFKIDA. 
 
 89 
 
 Would prove most baneful ! Done it, though she knew 
 
 'Twas what he wished not ! Aye, but she should rue 
 
 Her woman's foUy ; and he fiercely laugh'd 
 
 As humble server brought the parting draught 
 
 His lord had ordered ; and on bended knee 
 
 Now offer'd to him— drank it — ere that he 
 
 Had proved its nature — ^felt a leaden sleep 
 
 Press heavy on him, till he could not keep 
 
 His senses from oblivion, so there lay 
 
 In torpor lost, that knew not night or day. 
 
 The sun had journey'd half-way on its course 
 When he grew conscious that some hand would 
 
 force 
 His slumber from him, and with 'sodden eyes 
 Looked on Elfrida. " Come, my lord, arise ! 
 The king awaits us." " Woman, let me be." 
 He spoke, and struck instinctively to free 
 The locks that she was grasping ; miss'd, and fell 
 O'erbalanced, by his fierceness ! " Shall I tell 
 
90 ELFEIDA. 
 
 The king you're ailing ?" Slowly from the ground 
 Up rose the earl, and look'd bewilder'd round, 
 As by the wall he stay'd him. " Did you say 
 The king is coming — coming here to-day ! 
 Then quick make ready." "No, my lord, you 
 
 still 
 Dream as aforetime, and forget the will 
 Of our great monarch ; shall I go alone, 
 Or will you 'tend me?" Then with stifled groan 
 He answered hoarsely, " Ah ! I now recall ! 
 'Tis Edgar's feast ! I'U follow to the hall : 
 You go before." Then sinking helpless down, 
 She went out from him, heedless of the frown 
 He cast upon her, for too well she knew 
 What charmed a monftrch could a Thane subdue. 
 
 Soon as he heard the music of her feet, 
 Upon the threshold stood the king, to greet 
 His fair enslaver ; kiss'd her little boy ! 
 His god-son Edgar, then with fuller joy 
 
ELFRIDA. 91 
 
 Embraced the mother, and wild passion rush'd 
 Through every vein in madness. She, too, blushed 
 Ambition's thoughts forbidden to her tongue 
 Which mute rehearst them, while their lips were clung 
 One breath together ; one they jointly drew 
 From airy tides exhaled by flowers that grew 
 In Sense's Eden, while to part they deemed 
 As sever'd life, so terrible it seemed. 
 
 But watchful eyes were gathered round the pair. 
 And smile of slander lurked and twinkled ther^, 
 Scarce veiled by thoughts of prudence; so he 
 
 said 
 Vague words of princely courtesy, and led 
 Elfrida to the banquet — sudden thought 
 Of brother Ethelwold, and hoped that naught 
 Had robbed them of his presence ; and she m ade 
 A pleasant answer, fitted to evade 
 Pei-plexing query. " She was charged to bring 
 Excuses for him ; would her gracious king 
 
92 BLFEIDA. 
 
 Forgive her husband?" and she seem'd to rest 
 Long on that name, as something which oppresst 
 And would not leave her, while the monarch read 
 Much in her looks that words had left unsaid 
 Through pain or anger. " Lady, if you plead. 
 The guilt or foUy must be dark indeed 
 That I forgive not !" then he felt her hand 
 More fondly tighten, and could understand 
 How much she thank'd him, while his fingers clasp'd 
 Her's yet more close, as though 'twas hope they 
 grasp'd. 
 
 All life was bliss when, seated side by side. 
 Their bright illusions every lack suppUed 
 Of earthly banquet. No poor common food 
 Of vulgar life might venture to intrude 
 In carnal grossness ; they had faith to eat 
 Celestial manna, that, in form of meat. 
 Gave sustenance of angels ; each, too, heard 
 The breathless tones that tenderness preferr'd 
 
ELFKIDA. 93 
 
 Beyond all music ; for their instincts felt 
 'Twas there the key-note of existence dwelt, 
 Which Nature throbb'd to echo and prolong 
 Through passion'd chords of Love's eternal song. 
 
 Soon o'er their dream a hideous vision came 
 Of jealous hate, subdued by servile shame 
 And conscience-pictured vileness. Edgar rose 
 With eyes that flash'd the will he would impose 
 Ere words could rush to tell it ; and the Earl 
 Sank sudden down, like falcon lightning's hurl 
 From too presuming summit — took a seat 
 Beside his host, and meekly feign'd to eat 
 Trifles that well-nigh choked him — ^for the 
 
 King 
 With courteous mockings bade his loafers bring 
 Fresh dainties from the larder, for a guest 
 So well accustom'd to select the best 
 Of all things for,his portion ; then his eye 
 Swept o'er Elfrida, and forbade reply. 
 
94 BLFEIDA. 
 
 Quick echoes answer'd to the kingly sneer, 
 And venom'd pity voided in the ear 
 Of falling greatness, while the earl by force 
 Must bear wrong tamely, and each taunt endorse 
 By silent acquiescence, or bestow 
 A fatal vantage on his royal foe, 
 And forfeit all by anger ; so he bore 
 In writhing silence till the feast was o'er, 
 And he might quit the table ; then he stole 
 To darksome woods, wherein his burden'd soul 
 Might ease its load of curses, and his will 
 Devise man's vengeance on a woman's iU. 
 
 "I knew it would be! Edgar scorns' my 
 claim 
 To wifely duty ; while her husband's name 
 Is hateful to Blfrida ! I have lost 
 My friend for her, and his endowments cost 
 My wife's affection — so I needs must yield 
 The prize I strove for. Ti'eason has revealed 
 
ELFKIDA. 9§ 
 
 My treason's vantage, leaving me to cope 
 With bosom foes in strife devoid of hope 
 Till ruin snare me, and a slave be told 
 To hide from sight the rest of Ethelwold. 
 
 Yet though a king as sacred thing is deemed, 
 A rival lover may be less esteemed. 
 He reckons but man's station though he wear 
 Each regal symbol monarch ever bare 
 To advertise his office ; so this hand 
 May guard each right that husband can demand 
 From her vrho wed him. 'Tis a greater sin 
 To suUy wedlock than by fraud to win 
 Its duties from another, and the bond 
 'Bates not its strictness, though become less 
 
 fond. 
 One heart would fain untie it ! No, good wife. 
 When holy hands unite two threads of life, 
 'Tis only death can part them, and the Church 
 Will pull no falcon from an envied perch. 
 
96 ELFRIDA. 
 
 Though bidden by the eagle ; thou, at least, 
 Art in my power, and I shall live to feast 
 My vengeance on thy loathing. Edgar gone, 
 This hand shall tame thee ! Freedom thou hast 
 
 none, 
 Except to serve me, for henceforth I claim 
 To be thy lord, and jealous of my fame." 
 
 The king had seen the fair Elfrida part, 
 Then turned to muse in bitterness of heart 
 Upon his friend's betrayal, straying on 
 In chafing anger till the light was gone, 
 And darkness gathered round him. Late, a Thane 
 Saw him re-enter, seemingly in pain. 
 Although he straight denied it. Through the night 
 Men deem'd him wakeful, and with early light- 
 He must away to Wilton, and confer 
 With Bishop Dunstan, who made some demur 
 About a ghostly matter. So the court 
 Eeturned from Devon, leaving sylvan sport 
 
ELFBIDA. 97 
 
 For those wlio listed, but in Edgar's train 
 Who sought for Ethelwold might seek in vain. 
 
 The earl was missing, and his haughty dame 
 Stored frowns in vain for him who never came 
 To prove their darkness. Through the country, spread 
 Unfather'd rumours that her lord was dead, 
 Slain aS he left the banquet — that she gave 
 Her sanction to it ; — nay, iu secret grave 
 Herself had hid him ! So they set a day 
 To search the woods, and found him where he lay 
 Death stricken, near the pathway, with his hand 
 In clammy fierceness clutching still the brand 
 That lay blood-stained within it. Had the steel 
 Pierced foe unknown, in that swift stern appeal 
 Which warriors urge as reason, when they plead 
 In Honor's court to justify a deed. 
 
 Then as they search'd upon the trampled ground, 
 A sever'd bracelet 'mong the grass was foimd 
 
 H 
 
98 ELFEIDA. 
 
 By one who instant hid it, that the rest 
 
 Might share no secret by this toy contest, 
 
 But wander in conjectures. Soon they bare 
 
 The stark man homeward with that pious care 
 
 Death wins from rudest natures. On before 
 
 Ean speedy messengers, who quickly bore 
 
 The tidings to Elfrida — ^told her all 
 
 With rustic bluntness, though each word must 
 
 fall 
 Sin-barb'd to pierce her ; but the stricken look 
 That paled her features, told how horror shook 
 The pride from woman's nature ; once again 
 Brought kindly feeUng for the lord whose reign 
 Had now past from him, and she wept. 
 Till pity for her to each bosom crept. 
 
 Scarce twenty summers had Elfrida known. 
 Before she was a widow — ^left alone 
 With none to stay or guide her, and a boy 
 To ask her for his father. Present joy 
 
ELTEIDA. 99 
 
 Seem'd dead or banished, and for many days 
 She heeded nothing — could not bear to gaze 
 Upon the sunlight — could not stay to hear 
 The tale of raptures songster warbl'd near, 
 If e'er she oped her casement, when the night 
 Veil'd hateful beauties from the mourner's sight. 
 
 Wild passioned natures, stricken by remorse, 
 Peel grief's tumultuous sarging, with a force 
 That bears them earthward, but, the tempest past, 
 Erect and daring, proudly woo each blast 
 That fame breathes ever ; and are ill content 
 If trumpet voices labour to inyent 
 No pseans for them — such can never brook 
 Oblivious ease iu quiet shelter'd nook, 
 Where men walk by them, to receive the crown 
 That honour keeps for children of renown. 
 
 Elfrida ceased to sorrow, and once more 
 Was all ambition counted her before, — 
 
100 ELFEIDA. 
 
 A haughty beauty, emulous to gain 
 The right to view all others with- disdain ; 
 The power to crush a rival, and the skill 
 To bind all favour subject to her will ; 
 Be fortune's shadow faithful to a friend 
 When scorching,rajs of jealousy descend; 
 And queen a world, where graces life adorn ; 
 Too high for slander, and too great for scorn. 
 
 King Edgar came to Wilton, where he found 
 His holy bishop Dunstan, and unbound 
 The burden of his conscience — washed his soul 
 In priestly absolution — felt sin roU 
 Like mountain from him, and the world defied 
 To breathe a slander that could dim his pride. 
 He knew full weU that pow'r and priestly 
 
 craft 
 Secured from taint, by idle rumour waft, 
 So kept his way, unheeding.what they told, 
 Till wonder ceased to speak of Bthelwold. 
 
101 
 
 Some few weeks after, Dunstan, sad at heart, 
 Wove holy bands, that death alone could part 
 Around a youthful couple, who by night 
 Breathed secret vows, as though the eye of light 
 Had seen them hateful, or the honor'd rite 
 Were shame both dreaded; yet they each had fame 
 In England's land, and none forbid their claim 
 To blessing on their spousals ; but to both 
 Had been such recent past, the saint was loath 
 To do a cleric's office. " Edgar, wilt thou take 
 Thy wife Elfrida, and for her forsake 
 All other loves ? " " Elfrida, wilt thou say, 
 Edgar, my lord, to honor, love, obey, 
 And keep in health or sickness ? " Each one said 
 The words that passion with ambition wed, 
 And, reaping thus sin's harvest, might enjoy 
 Such fruits as conscience rose not to destroy. 
 
 Like earthly shadow of revengeful soul, 
 A shrouded figure from a piUar stole 
 
102 ELPKIDA. 
 
 To plant itself before them. Dumb with awe 
 Poor stricken Sigfred's pallid face they saw 
 Flash frenzied eyes upon the quailing bride, 
 Then skinny hand would pluck her from the 
 
 side 
 Of him her terror clung to, as she heard 
 Loud, hideous laughter that wild echoes stirred 
 To cry like mocking demons. Edgar threw 
 An arm around her, and instinctive drew 
 His blade from golden scabbard ; but a change 
 Past over Sigfred, who appeared to range 
 Through maze of tangled mem'ries till at last 
 He caught a light that glimmer'd from the past. 
 
 " I went to curse him ! curse the wicked earl 
 Who stole her from me ; I would seize and hurl 
 The felon from her window ; so I lay 
 (They did not see me) waiting all the day 
 Until he sought her chamber ; but 'twas vain ; 
 I staid for him who could not come again, 
 
ELFEIDA, 103 
 
 For some one slew him. Where he fell 
 I found this bracelet ; hush ! we must not tell 
 The knaves a king had worn it ; let it lie 
 Above my heart stiU, lest its hate should die. 
 
 A ring of gold, 
 A ring of gold, 
 
 Like a snake that liad twined his wrist ; 
 And lesser ring 
 Too tight would cling 
 
 To the hand that he prest and kiss'd. 
 But vengeful stroke 
 Alike has broke 
 
 His snake and her bond I wist. 
 
 "Hush!" said the King, and smote the hapless 
 youth, 
 Whose witless cunning babbled hateful truth — 
 " I will not hear thee !" But what hand can stay 
 The tongue that madness hurries on its way 
 
104 ELFKIDA. 
 
 O'er ruins of decorum. " Ah ! ah ! smite again, 
 Thou crownless king, that crownless must remain, 
 If thou wouldst live to crave it ; darest thou go 
 And take thy glitt'ring symbol? — 'tis the woe 
 Time treasures for Elfrida ! Three short years 
 Thou wear'st a crov^n ; then Death, thy king, appears 
 To smite thee, royal smiter, and thy bride 
 Again is widow'd !" Sigfred now espied 
 Some forms approaching ; so he turn'd and fled 
 To covert of the darkness — onward sped. 
 Where none could trace him; while the King once 
 
 more 
 Led on Elfrida, sadder than before. 
 
 The reckless race Ambition's daughter ran 
 Had ended as she wished it — Hope could plan 
 No fairer closing ; she had won a throne 
 And ruled a king, whom Nature made her own 
 In straitest bonds of duty. Tet the prize 
 Seem'd scarce so bright as when, with distant eyes, 
 
JSLFEIDA. 105 
 
 She first beheld it — all the gold was dim, 
 And in its shadow lurk'd a spectre grim 
 That ever scowl'd npon her, to deride 
 The empty vauntings of successful pride, 
 Which cast compunction headlong in its haste, 
 To rear Fame's temple on a soul debased. 
 
 A royal circle never yet had bound 
 The brows of Edgar. Ere they could be crown'd 
 Death summon'd Ethelfled, who should have shared 
 This honour with him. Since he had not cared 
 That men should crown him queenless; he would 
 
 Wait 
 Until he found a partner for his state 
 Whose beauty should enhance it — now be wed 
 A peerless beauty, who, with haughty head. 
 Uplifted grandeur. But s!o late she call'd 
 Another husband, decency enthrall'd 
 Their present wishes, and forbade her claim 
 To public honor of a royal name. 
 
106 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Much chafed Elfrida at the long delay 
 That prudence call'd for ; she at times would say, 
 'Twas Dunstan plann'd it, and the thought gained 
 
 strength 
 That he distrusted ; thus she came at length 
 To doubt the Saint, and fancy that he feared 
 His power would lessen when a queen appeared 
 In gemot with her husband, so she sent 
 One day to call him, and the Bishop went, 
 Unwilling to displease her, though his will 
 Had kept him absent from her presence still. 
 
 " Peace with thee, Daughter : what dost thou deske f 
 " Thy counsel, Father : and I may require 
 Thy help to back it." " Daughter, I am thine 
 In all things rightful." " Canst thou not divine 
 What I must sigh for 1 " « Surely thou hast all 
 This world can give thee ; 'tis but one can call 
 Our king her husband." " But I bear the name 
 Like secret scandal that were woman's shame 
 
BLFEIDA. 107 
 
 If whispered to the nation." " Child, obey 
 Thy husband's bidding.'' " When my lord must say 
 What Dunstan pleases." " I can but advise, 
 King Edgar rules." " But sees with Dunstan's eyes 
 And hears just what may please him — will you end 
 This mummer's sorrow. I would call you friend, 
 If so it please you, Father." " Child, I serve 
 The King of Kings ! — ^what meed would he deserve 
 Who loved not those who love him.'' " Father, peace ; 
 I know who thwarts me : will you straight release 
 Your daughter from her bondage, — I must take 
 My name and station ; wherefore should you make 
 A bootless feud between us, I can aid 
 And I wUl aid you, if an end be made 
 At once to this seclusion.'' " Am I king 
 Or husband to thee ? " " Dunstan, will you fling 
 My friendship from you ? " Then she rose and glared 
 Full on the Priest, and shew'd Mm soul that dared 
 All powers to cross her pathway, " ChUd, I pray 
 The saints may keep thee, I must now away 
 
108 ELFRIDA. 
 
 To tend mine office ; " and the Bishop past 
 From out the place, nor heeded look she cast. 
 
 When Edgar came he found his wife in tears 
 Whose wild excess awoke uxorious fears 
 That mastered reason. " Wherefore dost thou weep ; 
 My own dear soul-mate, secret must not keep 
 From him who loves her." "Dost thou love, 
 
 indeed? 
 Then I can bear it — thou wilt soon be freed 
 From her who shames thee ; yet I cling to life 
 As what might prove thy little foolish wife 
 Not all unworthy." Then the monarch wound 
 His arms around her, while Elfrida found 
 NewspeUs to slave him, and 'midst sobs confest 
 She fear'd the stain that sland'rous tongues imprest 
 Upon their secret spousals. " Who has dared 
 Malign my loveUng !" " Oh, my lord, I spared 
 No cost to please thee ; risking all we prize, 
 My woman's virtue clad in foul disguise 
 
ELFRIDA. 109 
 
 As shame had right to deck me ! Yet my will 
 
 Offends not duty ; for I wear it still 
 
 Because thou biddest." " 'Tis but Kttle now 
 
 Ere Dunstan says we fitly may avow 
 
 The bond between us." "But thy chQd, my 
 
 lord, 
 My unborn blessing — can our lore afford 
 The shameful tinge upon his infant cheeks ? 
 Forgive me, Edgar ; 'tis his mother speaks." 
 
 Then bow'd the man to woman, and obey'd 
 The spell affection on his wisdom laid 
 To lead it blindly ; he had cast aside 
 The lamp of truth, and bade his passions guide 
 In darkness on to pleasure. He had wed 
 A three months' widow, who cajoled and led 
 As fancy pleased her ; while the bishop's hand 
 Held censures o'er him to enforce demand 
 His wife should live in secret, and forego 
 The gilded moments youthful monarchs know ; 
 
110 ELFKrOA. 
 
 Bend down her will to suit the high design 
 That bade Earth's children saintly garlands twine, 
 And feel in useless innocence like this, 
 The first pulsations of immortal bliss. 
 
 Oh, priest and woman ! when your powers combine, 
 What man forbids the purpose you design? 
 What king can rule you, or what husband stay? 
 What law restrain, or sympathy delay ? 
 You grasp the mortal and immortal key 
 Of all we are, or shall hereafter be ; 
 Our thoughts confine, our energies possess ; 
 Tourselyes the circle where we may progress ; 
 And then, admiring, cry — Behold the man ! 
 Our God-like copy of a perfect plan ! 
 
 But if these powers against each other strive, 
 And each on ruin of its foe would thrive, 
 Then comes in License to upset the throne 
 That Order raised when life was yet her own. 
 
EIFRIDA. Ill 
 
 Then Virtue flees, and Yice, with mincing tread, 
 
 Leads in all evils she has ever bred ; 
 
 And but this hope can venture to remain. 
 
 That priest or woman may be erush'd or slain. 
 
 Choose which you will ; the woman p'rhaps is best, 
 
 For, being carnal, earth may woo to rest 
 
 And give some freedom, while the priest would bind 
 
 But sterner fetters on a vanquish'd mind ; 
 
 Would leave man feeble, helpless, and alone, 
 
 To hymn God's praises in ecstatic groan. 
 
ELFEIDA. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 The king had held long converse with the saint. 
 And mingled prayer and promise with complaint, 
 Until the bishop yielded. He removed 
 The prohibition that so long had proved 
 A burden to Elfrida, and at last, 
 New plumed by fashion, all Ufe's darkness past, 
 She stood beside her husband, while her word 
 Was potent breath that courtly surface stirred 
 To ripple as it pleased her, and the great, 
 Abasing pride, would humbly on her wait. 
 
114 ELFEIDA. 
 
 The tongue of scandal wither'd at the roots 
 Before it spake that judgment which imputes 
 An evil it supposes. She bad been 
 Misled, ill-mated, and the king had seen 
 Her sorrow to assuage it ; but 'twere well 
 To leave the past, and in the present dwell. 
 Which fortune gilded bravely. Dunstan, too, 
 Spake most discreetly, and whate'er he knew 
 Kept only for his guidance. So her life 
 Was all accompHsh'd wishes freed from strife, 
 That rdakes up common being, and wears out 
 The gloss of pleasure in foreshadow'd doubt. 
 
 Her child was born, and christen'd Ethelred — 
 A lusty boy, that smiling matrons said 
 Was image of his father, for the King 
 Was plainly stamp'd upon that shapeless thing 
 They lauded for its beauty. But it grew 
 As though fair speeches moulded, and made 
 true 
 
BLPBIDA. 115 
 
 The falsehoods that had praised it. He became 
 Each day more worthy of the royal name 
 His mother deem'd his birthright, while her scorn 
 Scathed those who called another eldest born. 
 
 Yet Edward lived, a,nd Edgar's mem'ry led 
 To former days; when gentle EtheMed 
 But joy'd as he was happy. Then all days 
 Were ,so love-lighted that earth's roughest ways 
 Seem'd gilded paths of Eden, where his Eve 
 Spoke in, soft whispers and could truth believe,- 
 Nor craved unlawful knowledge. Even yet 
 His heart, once blest, could never quite forget 
 The yearning ^e awakened, to secure 
 That God-like ^ which teaches spirits pure 
 True sympathy with nature. Thus his spn, 
 God's gift and her's, a pure affection won. 
 That likeness to her strengthen'd, though the 
 
 queen 
 With subtle art made harmless actions mean 
 
116 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Dark purposes unworthy, and oft near, 
 Breathed half-truth falsehoods in the royal ear. 
 
 At last she woke, by indiscreet desire, 
 Sharp baneful flashes of impatient ire, 
 And almost fear'd her husband, so she seemed 
 To yield her purpose — feigning that she deem'd 
 His will imperious reason, but still sought 
 For other means. One day she musing thought 
 Would Dunstan aid her ? Could she offer aught 
 By which the saint's alliance could be bought 
 Or enmity abated ? It were worth 
 At least a trial, so the wish gave birth 
 To speedy action ; she would try her skill 
 And woman's charms to turn the churchman's will ; 
 Would learn if priesthood was inherent power 
 To keep man sinless in temptation's hour. 
 
 Saint Dunstan marveU'd at the change he saw 
 Come o'er Blfrida. She would oft withdraw 
 
ELFKIDA. 117 
 
 From courtly pleasures, and, with look demure, 
 The long-droned service of his church endure 
 With patience most unequall'd ; so at last 
 He hoped she mourn' d her follies of the past. 
 And would amend the future. Then he gave 
 Such ghostly counsel as a pater grave 
 Might tender to a daughter, whom he knew 
 Had reason for repentance. Soon it grew 
 To daily custom that, from evensong 
 They walked together — sometimes, too, 'twas long 
 Before they parted, when a converse deep 
 Begtuled the hours that Nature meant for sleep. 
 
 Tet there was nought for scandal. Each, though 
 bent 
 To shape the other's actions, was intent 
 On profit more than pleasure. One still eve 
 Thus spoke the Bishop : "Daughter, by your leave, 
 I would impose a labour on your zeal, 
 Reward, and penance." " Father, I should feel 
 
118 ELFRIDA. 
 
 Aye more than grateful." "And would win 
 
 renown, 
 As one who fnrnish'd honor for a crown, 
 By duties gem'd with kindness." " Should I wear 
 The queenly bandj 'twill be my pride and care 
 To prove me worthy ; yet, 'twill mar my joy 
 To feel like honors wait not for the boy 
 That lisping calls me mother : still, 'tis said 
 Iso holy rite his mother ever wed 
 With him I call my husband." " Daughter, peace ; 
 'Tis but low slander ! let that rumour cease 
 To soil thy mem'ry's pages ; yet one way 
 Might lead thee to thy wishes and allay 
 Thy fond maternal doubtiugs. Princes bred 
 In holy cloisters sometimes have been led 
 To choose a priestly calling and resign 
 Terrestrial honors for a life divine.'' 
 
 Then Dunstan paused, and watchful, silent, scanned 
 Elfrida'g face to read the course she planned, 
 
119, 
 
 While yet unspoken, and a joyless smile 
 Shew'd self-laudatioii gloried in the wile 
 That stole her secret meaning. " Would yon aid 
 To build an abbey, if the prince were made 
 Its sure predestined abbot ? " " But I fear 
 The King would baulk us when he came to hear 
 His darling's crown was 'dangered." "Let 
 
 that be. 
 It presses not ; and Edgar ! why should he 
 Be partner of our counsel'? " " Why, indeed !" 
 And then Elfrida seemed her past to read 
 Illumin'd by the future. Royal state 
 And kingly favor that had come so late 
 Had been her right for ever, while the man 
 Who tardy brought them but fulfilled the plan 
 His Master had pre-ordered, and she felt 
 In her own temple, native honor dwelt. 
 
 Short time elapsed before the boy was sent 
 As Dunstan wished it : Edgar was content 
 
120 ELFEIDA. 
 
 A priest should train him and instil the lore 
 That bookmen treasured, but which kings of yore 
 Had deemed ignoble. Times and modes were 
 
 changed, 
 For poHshed children had become estranged 
 From rudeness of their fathers ; they must learn 
 The gentle arts, and praise for clerkship earn 
 As sign of true nobility. A clown 
 Could smear his mark, or press a signet down ; 
 A noble scrawled cognomens and must read 
 His obligations ere he signed a deed. 
 
 Such reasons urged Elfrida, and inclined 
 The king to further what the priest designed 
 For his own profit ; but she never guessed 
 What subtle purpose filled the Churchman's breast, 
 Or how he meant to thwart her — to do right 
 Though seeming wrong, and with deception blight 
 His queen's intriguing. How her wrath had stirred 
 To see the youth with gentle hooded bird 
 
ELFKIDA. 121 
 
 Seek noble pastime, while she fondly thought 
 
 He fingered rosaries, or penance taught 
 
 The vanity of pleasure. On her ear 
 
 Had jarr'd his laughter, when devoid of fear 
 
 As her old self he dash'd o'er hill and vale 
 
 On mettled steed that could not — would not fail 
 
 To bear him safely. Soon he learned to wield 
 
 AU weapons fit for heroes, and his shield 
 
 Bore boyish honors, won in mimic fight 
 
 From youth's foreshadow'd copy of the knight 
 
 Some friend would be hereafter. Edward dwelt 
 
 In no dull cloister where the sun was felt 
 
 Too pleasant for endurance ; but in home 
 
 Where all was bright, and cheerful rays might come 
 
 To shine on smiling faces. Yet withall 
 
 His mind was tended, for though bookish thrall 
 
 Was press'd but lightly on him, still he learned 
 
 All needful clerkship, and when earth had turned 
 
 Seven times around her orbit, he was seen 
 
 A man in stature and a prince in mien. 
 
122 
 
 ELFKIDA. 
 
 E'en courtly state that ministered to pride 
 Was palling on Elfrida ; she had tried 
 All joys of sense, to find them canker'd fruits 
 But fit for loathsome parasite that suits 
 His honour to his interest. There remained 
 But one last glory, and she had attaiujed 
 The utmost Earth could give her ! 'Twas the crown 
 She now demanded, careless of the frown 
 That darkened Edgar's visage. " 'Tis for you 
 My lord, I crave it : I would prove untrue 
 The fear that men impute you ! Can it be 
 You dread those words of Sigfred ? Leave to me 
 The conduct of this matter." " Wife, forbear ! 
 Yon know I fear not, though I hardly care 
 To face a risk uuneeded, when the prize 
 Would be small gain except in women's eyes." 
 " But Edgar, think ! a monarch so renowned ; 
 So fond of state ; and yet to live uncrown'd 
 Because a knave defied him ! 'tis to shew 
 The vaunted hero dreads a shadow foe 
 
BLFEIDA. 123 
 
 That struts upon Ms conscience!" and her 
 
 face 
 Shone with that scorn men love so ill to trace 
 On features of a helpmate. " Be it so ! 
 I fear no shadows, and the world shall know 
 I have no conscience bogle," Then he strode 
 Impatient from the chamber, for her goad 
 Impelled man's pride to action, and o'ercajne 
 His heart's forebodings by the sense of shame. 
 
 When feast of Pentecost again came round 
 It Bath's great city fuU of splendour found 
 In honor of King Edgar and his Queen. 
 They in St. Peter's knelt in state, between 
 Two holy bishops, while the Witan's pride 
 Due ordered by them, mantled either side 
 With aU a nation's glory. Proudly swelled 
 The loud Te Deum, and ea,ch thought compelled 
 To fitting reVrence ere the people chose 
 Their feUow for their monarch. Soon arose 
 
124 BLFBIDA. 
 
 Glad acclamations when Saint Dunstan asked 
 "Will you have Edgar Cyning?" for all tasked 
 Their powers to make tall Gothic arches ring 
 With loyal echoes of " God save the King." 
 
 Slow taught by Dunstan, with uplifted head, 
 In solemn tones, the new-made monarch said, 
 "I, Edgar, to this Christian people swear 
 In Christ's most holy name, three things to 
 
 bear 
 In constant mem'ry. First, the Church of God 
 And Christian people free from tyrants' rod 
 In true and lasting peace shall ever dwell ; 
 This now I swear as God shall keep me well. 
 Again, I swear all evil to forbid ; 
 That fraud or rapine never shall be hid 
 Behind my royal mantle, but that sin. 
 In all conditions, shall disfavour win. 
 I thirdly swear, I straightly will command 
 That equal justice rule throughout the land 
 
BLFEIDA, 125 
 
 By mercy tempered — and may God incline 
 My heart of hearts to keep this oath of mine." 
 
 A deep " Amen " arose on every side 
 As subject heaxts with glad assent replied 
 To thege conditions. Next, three bishops read 
 Three suited prayers, and then upon his head 
 The oil was poured, while anthem sweet proclaimed 
 How Zion's king, great Solomon, was named 
 By Zadoc and by Nathan. Two more prayers, 
 Then in his hand the sword of state he bears 
 To wield as God shall guide Mm. Next, they 
 
 placed 
 The crown upon him, and his hand was graced 
 With royal sceptre, as they prayed again 
 That godly virtues might be sent to reign 
 O'er him who ruled them. Last, the rod was brought 
 And given to him, with true words that taught 
 How truth and justice, equity and zeal, 
 To kiugs were duty, and to peoples, weal. 
 
126 ELFRIDA. 
 
 In turn they crovra'd Elfrida, and bestow'd 
 A ring upon her — sign of faith she owed 
 To Edgar and his kingdom, for she wed 
 That hour with both, as old tradition said, 
 And swore to love them triily ; theii the Saint, 
 With deep emotion, bade them keep from taint' 
 The faith they plighted. Last, he blessing gave 
 To God's anointed, praying He wohld save 
 The king' from foemeh ; that the heavenly dew 
 And eaVthly fatness daily might renew 
 His strength and gratitude ; that he might reign ' 
 liofd'pfhiS brothers, and ah empire gain 
 O'er mothers' sons; that courage, wisdom, might, 
 Should allbegiveh to maintain his right 
 In every needmg, and his sure ally 
 Be found in Christ ascended to the sky. 
 
 Then there was silence till the king arose 
 And raised his queen with arms that needs must 
 elos& 
 
ELFBIDA. 127 
 
 A moment fondly round her, in the sight 
 Of all his people ; for she shone so bright 
 He could not help it, but forgot his state 
 In human impulse too profound to wait 
 For place or season. The beholders caught 
 Love's impulse from him — thought impelling thought 
 Like ripples cu'cled, till e'en haters cried 
 " God save the queen," as stately at his side 
 She bent to greet them, Uke a ruffled swau 
 Escaped from grasp, whose energy began 
 To discompose her plumage. Then the pair 
 Walked down the aisle new-strew'd with blossoms 
 
 fair 
 That maiden hands provided — pass'd along 
 Strait crowded streets to scatter gold among 
 The loyal folk who thronged them, and repaid 
 The lavish'd treasure by their clamour's aid. 
 
 For six long days right royal sports were held, 
 And in the conduits potent rivers well'd 
 
128 ELFKIDA. 
 
 Unstinted for the people, so that care 
 Was fairly banished or intruded there 
 For briefest sober moments. Distant lands 
 Their tributes yielded to augment the band 
 Of gallant strangers, who were lured by fame, 
 And shared unchallenged in what manly game 
 Their fancy favour'd, while Elfrida's. hand 
 Bestow'd rich prizes, fitted to command 
 A noble emulation. With the rest 
 Appeared a youth who ever forward press'd 
 Among the gamesters with a strength and 
 
 skill 
 That made success subservient to his will, 
 Until none wondered that the monarch sent 
 A Thane to bring this stripling to his tent. 
 
 Clad in his mail the youth unwilling came, 
 And kneeling down would gracious pardon gain 
 For disobedience. Smiling, Edgar raised 
 The boy up kindly, while Elfrida praised 
 
BLFBIDA. 129 
 
 His grace and breeding. " But we long to learn 
 What gallant cnight , has deign'd our ' gauds to 
 
 earn 
 In these encounters. May we not remove 
 Thy jealous mask — we ladies ever love 
 To gaze on noble faces !" Quick her hand 
 With fond adroitness gently loosed the band 
 And raised his visor for him — saw — aghast 
 Let fall the screen, and would have sealed it fast 
 To hide his face for ever. " Why, my Queen, 
 What aUs thee now — what is it thou hast seen ? 
 How dare you thus affright her." And he tore 
 Away the hehnet, to behold once more 
 His slighted son, Prince Edward. "Boy, you 
 
 here?" 
 " Forgive me, Father, that I dared appear 
 Unbidden by you. Mother, do not chide 
 Because I scared you ! 'twas my wish to hide, 
 A hateful being gave me this disguise ; 
 Indeed I meant no indiscreet surprise." 
 
130 ELFEIDA. 
 
 With painful effort sad Elfrida taught 
 Fair Smiles to hide the tempest of her thought, 
 And proffered kiss of welcome, but his sire 
 With joy embraced him. He could hardly 
 
 tire 
 Of gazing on those features, where the look 
 His mother gave him, seemed a living book 
 Recording aU her virtues, with each page 
 Illumined freshly by that blessed age 
 When truth is one with nature. This to him 
 Was joy and brightness, but it rendered dim 
 The hope of queen Elfrida. Soon her boy 
 Came bounding in, to greet with artless joy 
 The brother he had heard of, as the cnight 
 They all had counted hero of the fight, 
 But deemed a noble stranger, and the pair, 
 Linked in Love's fetters, had no thought or 
 
 care 
 For crowns that made contention, but content 
 One with the other, pleasant moments spent. 
 
ELPRIDA. 131 
 
 For come what may in after years of life, 
 Our youth is free from petty, jealous strife 
 That values birth or station, and a clown 
 Can mate a king, nay, haply bear him down 
 To prove which is the master. Then the prince 
 Felt not the pride which foUy tutor'd, since 
 To call man's touch degrading, and each cared 
 But for such pleasure as the other shared. 
 And felt his joy and honour had their due 
 In all the friend he loved and trusted knew. 
 
 So was it now ; while in EMrida's breast 
 Dark passions surged; God-taught her chQd 
 
 confest 
 The kinship of his brother, and was glad 
 He had a brother, though the elder lad 
 Would take the higher station, and his fame 
 Must wane before him. Soon the royal dame 
 Complained that she was weary, and withdrew 
 To frame her vengeance, or devise anew 
 
132 ELPEIDA. 
 
 How best to gain the empire and defeat 
 
 The priest who dared her soul's ambition cheat. 
 
 One passion only flourished in her breast, 
 Like rampant weed that flung its shade unblest 
 O'er simple modest virtues ; she must stand 
 A very queen who centred all command, 
 And held all fates dependent. Now she found 
 Her will was rivall'd — her ambition bound, 
 Nay threaten'd with destruction. Through that night 
 Small peace had they who tended — she could smite 
 At least her servile handmaids, and her hand 
 Spared not to do it, when her whim's demand 
 An instant was unheeded. But at length 
 Fatigue o'ermastered even passion's strength 
 And sealed the gates of slumber, so she lay 
 A helpless form — wiU-relegated clay. 
 
 The sports were ended, and with fitting state 
 They journey'd north, where honours seemed to wait 
 
ELFKLDA. 
 
 133 
 
 Impatient for them— all the land was glad 
 
 In Edgar's smile, while fair Elfrida had 
 
 Sufficient admiration, though her face, 
 
 Through care and anger, seemed unfitting place 
 
 For love to dwell on. She beheld with pain 
 
 Not e'en her presence homage conld restrain 
 
 'Far England's heir, Prince Edward, while her 
 
 boy 
 With aU his beauty, scarcely could enjoy 
 A dim reflected favour, but became 
 The mean possessor of an useless name ; 
 A seemly rose whose odour was express'd 
 To leave insipid all that life possess'd. 
 
 Each bloom of joy was withered, and the crown 
 Became a spirit burden, pressing down 
 The self-content within her, nay she heard 
 A mocking tone, as key-note to each word 
 That buzzed her pomp or beauty Foil'd, she sought 
 A baneful solace in revengeful thought 
 
134 ELFEIDA. 
 
 That ever turned to Dunstan — she would wait 
 
 And silent fan the embers of her hate, 
 
 To keep them hot and glowing, till his hour 
 
 Of woe or folly gave her wishes power 
 
 To flash out ruin ; then this priest should know 
 
 That queenly ire, could blast a woman's foe. 
 
 Yet were there scenes which might have soothed her 
 pride 
 By glory realised, for monarchs vied 
 To do them honour. Once eight tribute kings 
 Along their bark waved oars that gleamed Uke wings 
 Of sea-bird skimming ocean. Then, the Dee 
 Was fringed by more than rushes, and each tree 
 Bore fruit unwonted, and was voiced by birds 
 Whose admiration fashion'd Saxon words 
 To gossip with their fellows. All the stream 
 Was clad with barks, whose banners made it seem 
 A path where rainbows fluttered, while the air 
 New-soul'd by music, vaunted everywhere 
 
ELFKmA. 135 
 
 Ot Edgar and Elfrida, as though Earth 
 Had reached her consummation in their birth. 
 
 Then there were feasts in Chester — royal days 
 When all the township kindled to a blaze 
 Of loyal exultation. Men went mad 
 On common topics which no longer had 
 Their wonted vulgar meaning. One alone 
 Spoke slightingly of Edgar, and made known 
 His sense of degradation — "it was shame 
 That taller men should give a higher name 
 And bow to puny upstart," and he laughed 
 Like scornful braggart o'er his midnight draught. 
 
 Some mornings after, two milites stood 
 Within the covert of a lonely wood 
 Where none could see or hear them. " Kenneth, stand. 
 Here, take thy choice — ^I offer either brand 
 For thine acceptance ;" and the chief displayed 
 Two Saxon swords whose evenness of blade 
 
136 ELFKIDA. 
 
 Gave no advantage. " Come, you should not fear 
 A puny upstart ! England's king is here 
 Alone, with great Mo Alpine." But the lord 
 Of Scottish earldoms could not then afford 
 To lavish valour's treasure. " Sire, 'twas jest ; 
 I own unseemly. Let your censure rest 
 On wine-cups that begot it ;" and he blush'd 
 This giant vaunter, like a girl who hush'd 
 Some whisper of her lover. Then with scorn 
 Gave Edgar both the weapons he had borne ; 
 " There, take them to the Castle !" and unarmed 
 Strode onward, careless of the pride he harmed. 
 
 The progress ended, and their life became 
 
 Just what it had been, but with other name 
 
 Men fancied louder sounding, yet the queen 
 
 Was ill contented ; Edward stood between 
 
 Her present and her future, so that both 
 
 Were shadowed by him. Her proud soul was 
 » 
 loath 
 
ELFRtDAi 137 
 
 To bask in faded glory, and at times 
 Dark visions came that imaged phantom crimes 
 Which promised all she envied. But as yet 
 Her woman's nature could not quite forget 
 Its shrinking from pollution, so her hand 
 Delayed fulfilment of her will's demand ; 
 Let Edward live, although she felt his breath 
 Enfolded hope with atmosphere of death. 
 
 Soft wings of peace in brooding fondness spread 
 O'er all the Saxon empire, for the dread 
 Of Edgar's power had won profound respect 
 From aU the nations round him. No neglect 
 Was suffered in his wardship. Twice each year 
 He rode the circuits that his royal ear 
 Might learn what subjects needed. Stern of 
 
 hand 
 He curbed oppressors who would vex the land 
 Through selfish inclination. Robber bands 
 Were scared the country, or by his commands 
 
138 ELFKIDA. 
 
 Toiled fetter'd for the nation. From the waves 
 That wall'd his kingdom, Justice swept the knaves 
 Whose souls were dens of rapine, and men saw 
 Three times twelve hundred barks, uphold the law 
 Their monarch's banner symbol'd. 'Stead of gold 
 Three hundred heads the tribute Welchmen told 
 Of wolves their hunters slaughtered. Coins replaced 
 The doubtful pieces fraud or use defaced, 
 And reft of half their value ; thus he gained 
 A glorious mem'ry grateful hearts retained. 
 
 A sickness stole across the happy land 
 And smote king Edgar. Soon the clammy hand 
 Of death was on him. • Rising 'midst his pain 
 Rememb'rance brought poor Sigfred's words again 
 And broke the soul which stayed him. He had' 
 
 worn 
 His crown the time appointed ; now 'twas torn 
 By phantom dangers from him. Nought availed 
 To soothe his spirit, and the leeches failed 
 
BLFKIDA. 139 
 
 To find another healing, so at last 
 The vital essence was absorbed and past ; 
 Blfrida, twice a widow, and the land 
 Without a master fitted to command. 
 
 His nation wept for Edgar, and bewailed 
 Its own disaster, but Elfrida failed 
 Her tribute of affection. All her power ' 
 Was menaced with destruction. Sorrow's hour 
 Might be her ruin's triumph, so she nerved 
 Her proud heart for the combat and observed 
 All men around her — bidding for their aid 
 With lavish promise, while her cunning made 
 Aspersions of prince Edward. But the saint 
 Avouch'd his birth and fixed a damning taint 
 On his traducer ; then, without delay, 
 Proclaimed the prince and swept her schemes 
 
 away 
 By prompter action ; giving hate no time 
 To mend past weakness by an instant crime. 
 
140 ELFEIDA. 
 
 With pomp they buried Edgar, near the spot 
 Where Arthur lay and Launc'lot came to blot 
 His life-sin by repentance. Many days 
 The shrine was thronged, for braving Mendip 
 
 ways 
 Came pious folk by thousands. Men displayed 
 Their spirits' grief, by gifts devotion laid 
 On blessed Mary's altar, till 'twas thought 
 The creature dead more wealth and honor brought 
 Than did the living monarch. So regret 
 Was buried quickly, ere its pangs could let 
 The joy of golden harvest, or impair 
 Man's simple faith in masses purchased there. 
 
 With holy joy the saint approved their zealj 
 And planned an abbey worthy to reveal 
 His glory to all ages — fit for those 
 Who loved God's praises, or their own repose 
 Within a pleasant county, and indeed, 
 No fairer scene could contemplation need 
 
EI.FKroA. 141 
 
 Than Glastonbury offered. Near at hand 
 
 Convalsive nature had upheaved the land 
 
 In tow'ring waves of meadow, that like tide 
 
 Of joyous plenty, swept along in pride 
 
 With burdens that were precious. West and North 
 
 Spread marshes wide — ^twin children land sent 
 
 forth 
 To win a home from ocean. Both were clad 
 In summer suits which made the gazer glad 
 With miles of living verdure. Then the sea 
 Stretched far beyond, a pathway of the free, 
 That heavenly sunbeams gilded, whUe the waves 
 Seem beck'ning hands of distant love, that craves 
 The greeting of a hero, but would try 
 His strength and courage should he venture nigh. 
 
 Two kindred Holmes the ruddy waters boss 
 Like mighty step-stones giant thought might cross 
 To reach the hills of Cambria, where the eye. 
 Confused by summits, measured land and sky. 
 
142 
 
 ELPRIDA. 
 
 But failed to trace their limits, so surmised 
 This space by earth and that by air comprised. 
 
 The solemn rite of Love's bereavement done, 
 The bishop sought king Edward — quickly won 
 An audience from him and disclosed his plan 
 To curb Blfrida. He true, holy man 
 Was iU contented she should be at large 
 To compass evil. " It were well to charge 
 Some Thane to keep her, and restrain the will 
 Whose restless cunning plotted mischief still." 
 
 But tender feelings ruled in Edward's heart 
 And bred distaste for tyrant jailer's part, 
 HoHrever needful. He constrained the saint 
 To path of mercy, smiling at complaint 
 Of boyish weakness, that would ruin all 
 To spare a haughty woman. " But I call 
 That woman mother, and desire to make 
 Her sorrows lighter ! " " Giving chance to break 
 
ELFE.IDA. 143 
 
 The sceptre you extend her." "Be it so, 
 
 A king who stoops to rule by others' woe 
 
 Has proved himself unworthy." " But, my son, 
 
 She called thee bastard, and had nigh begun 
 
 Disorder in thy kingdom.'' " Let her be ! 
 
 My father loved her, and I could not see 
 
 His widow law-molested. She shall live 
 
 A queen as ever, and in time forgive 
 
 The chance which made me elder. Let her reign 
 
 Supreme in Dorset, and all gifts retain 
 
 King Edgar promised to her." " Good, my lord, 
 
 I heed your pleasure ; all shall be restored 
 
 As you have willed it. And her mourning 
 
 year, 
 Where shall she pass it? — Corfe would p'rhaps 
 
 appear 
 The fittest castle." " Bather let us go 
 And hear her wishes, I am loath to shew 
 My kingship to her." So the priest was fain 
 To borrow smiles and hide his hope again. 
 
144 ELFBIDA. 
 
 They found Elfrida in the restless mood 
 Of one who knew that evil might intrude 
 With every comer, and whose heart was nerved 
 To front disaster. Quickly she observed 
 The men who entered — drew herself erect, 
 A very queen, who rightly might expect 
 Unquestioned homage. Edward forward came, 
 With artless words — love darts, his truth might aim 
 To reach affection. " Mother, let me share 
 All griefs that pain you ; I would help to bear 
 Your load of sorrow." " Boy, you quickly learn'd 
 To play the master ; 'twas not love that turned 
 My palace to a prison." " Daughter, peace ! 
 King Edward knew not ; he has will'd release 
 From ward I ordered," and the saint bent low 
 Before Elfrida. " Ah ! I'm glad to know 
 The child is guiltless ; that he can respect 
 The woman Edgar promised to protect 
 And bade his offspring cherish," then she wept 
 Wild passion'd tears, that pride and rage had kept 
 
ELFEIDA. 145 
 
 A prison'd torrent, to oppress the mind 
 By woeful sense, necessity confined 
 With bonds that perill'd reason, but which broke 
 When pity's voice a chord responsive woke. 
 • 
 They let her weep, while gentle Edward drew 
 His brother near him, eager to renew 
 The love between them. "Then you do not 
 
 hate; 
 You will not kill me ? " Edward could not wait 
 For words to answer, but that instant cast 
 His arms around, to hold him long and fast 
 Upon his bosom. " Hate thee ! kill thee, child ! 
 My father's son ! why, who has thus defiled 
 Thy thought and my intending ? " Soon he led 
 The boy to soothe his mother ; softly said 
 Kind words to cheer, until, her grief subdued. 
 She calmly listened, and in grateful mood 
 Took what he offered — seemingly forgave 
 The wrong of Dunstan, through desire to waive 
 
14:6 ELFEIDA. 
 
 All themes of discord — ^took the home he named 
 Without inquiry, and no favour claimed, 
 Except that Ethelred, her sireless boy, 
 Might still be near to give her thoughts employ. 
 
 So priestly cunning held its destined course 
 Unswayed by love, unshackled by remorse, 
 And blind to human feeling. Dunstan felt 
 The subtle power of woman's presence dwelt 
 Supremely in Elfrida, and 'twere vain 
 To hope such spirit would consent to reign 
 The shadow of another. He had sought 
 A distant spot, where, banished from the court. 
 She might complain unheeded, till the king, 
 By tasting all that royal freedoms bring, 
 Should prize his power, and guard it with the 
 
 zeal 
 That jealous envy tutored him to feel ; 
 TUl he had learn'd weak tenderness to still, 
 And bear the impact of a woman's wiU. 
 
ELFKIDA. 147 
 
 And Edward, trusting to his sainted guide, 
 Unwitting fed his enmity and pride ; 
 Eemoved EKrida, so that larger scope 
 Eemained for priestcraft. Shavelings now might hope 
 To rule unchallenged, while the king enjoyed 
 A summer being, and no care destroyed 
 The circle of his pleasures. Mockers smiled 
 To see how youthful candour was beguiled 
 By age that mimick'd wisdom ; that could lead 
 A loving heart to share unkindly deed 
 In guise of truth or duty — and trod down 
 The tender blossoms life put forth to crown 
 Fond hopes of gentle being. In a week. 
 The lone EUrida had gone forth to seek 
 Her home that he appointed. Thus again 
 The brothers parted, vowing to retain 
 Kind memory of each other, but between 
 Their future lives, a shadow crept unseen 
 To make one dark for ever ; 'twas the shade 
 Of human greatness, that ambition made 
 
148 BLPKIDA. 
 
 Upon the path she followed, and which 
 
 showed 
 In watchful eyes where baneful embers glowed 
 Beneath a pleasant surface, till the hour 
 When chance gave Treason vengeance for her 
 
 dower. 
 
 The world of Adam wept of yore, 
 When woman fii-st the impress bore, 
 
 Of sinful degradation ; 
 When o'er her pure primeval light 
 Stole wreathing fumes and hellish blight, 
 To dim her very thoughts of right. 
 
 By truth's obliteration. 
 Until our day was merged in night, 
 
 Our hope in consternation. 
 
 And through all ages she has been 
 The fairest or the darkest seen, 
 Of all the wide creation. 
 
149 
 
 The first to sinfnl folly prone, 
 The first her weakness to bemoan, 
 The first to wish all ill her own, 
 
 Or mock at consolation ; 
 Rejoicing not to fall alone. 
 
 But man must share her station. 
 
 And so in ages yet .to come, 
 
 Her truth or falsehood makes our sum 
 
 Of bliss or degradation ; 
 And man, 'mid pleasure or distress. 
 His chosen helpmate shall confess 
 A crown of joy or rottenness. 
 
 His being's consummation ; 
 And with her sometimes onward press 
 
 To Life's obliteration. 
 
ELFEIDA. 
 
 CANTO T. 
 
 High walls that tower'd majestic o'er the waste 
 Shut in Elfrida ; loneliness erased 
 All joys of her existence, and the still 
 That forced reflection, chafed a restless WiU 
 "Which found repose in action. Power had seemed 
 But innate right, and lacking that, she deemed 
 Her life debased, defrauded, while to reign 
 With borrowed sceptre seemed a burden lain 
 By cruel mockers on her. When she learned 
 What lot awaited, forthwith she returned 
 
152 ELFEIDA. 
 
 To cliide with Edward— stung his love and 
 
 pride 
 By words reproachful, tUl outraged, defied, 
 His wrath awaken'd. Dunstan then, with skill 
 Of words suggestive and imputed iU 
 Had proved her presence baneful — quick obtained 
 A Witan-doom, by which the queen retained 
 No power beyond her household, but was pent 
 In narrow bounds that gaU'd her discontent. 
 
 So Dunstan ruled in England, bringing all 
 Her pride and power submissive to the thrall 
 Of monkish domination. Ev'ry art 
 The priesthood cherished play'd its fitting part 
 In forging ghostly fetters. Prom the rood 
 Spake holy image, and by awe subdued 
 All clamours at the bishop, while one day 
 His vaunting foes a host of cripples lay 
 That writhed profane in torture, and for years 
 Men spoke of Calne with superstitious fears, 
 
BLFBIDA. 153 
 
 Recalling sin of Korah. Soon the dread 
 
 Of power unseen, mysterious terrors spread, 
 
 TiU men durst only wHsper, lest the fiend 
 
 Should hear and tell Saint Dunstan ; so each screen'd 
 
 His Kps while speaking, fearing guilty breath 
 
 He charged with words, might issue in his death. 
 
 Elfrida stood upon a lofty tower 
 That looked out seaward, to defy the power 
 Of Niord's angels. Shouting to the night, 
 Swept tempest round her, while fierce lurid light 
 Plashed hasty glimpses of remorseless waves, 
 That danced in triumph o'er the fathers' graves. 
 Foam serpents strangled, that their babes might pine 
 In want and nakedness. Through wind-jagged rent 
 Which seam'd the clouds, uncertain rays were sent 
 Prom giddy stars, that reel'd before the eye 
 As though the heavens were heaving, and the sky 
 No longer staidly held them. Oft the hail 
 Came sharp and fitful — flitting through the gale 
 
154 ELFKIDA. 
 
 Like fragments from Time's ruin, that foretold 
 A speedy downfall of those pillars old 
 Which made creation steadfast. 'Twas a night 
 When darkness seemed least di-eadful, and the 
 
 light 
 A terror-winged destroyer. AU within 
 Were crouching closely, hearing 'mid the din 
 Their names that Hela thundered. No one thought 
 Elfrida foiind the soul relief she sought 
 Bare-headed on the ramparts ; much less heard 
 The burst of passion that her frenzy stirred 
 To incoherent ravings, and revealed 
 Profoundest thoughts her vengeful heart concealed. 
 
 " Discarded ! worthless ! had I crush'd the boy, 
 My weakness tender'd, I might still enjoy 
 What God and Edgar gave me." Then she paced 
 Her limits wildly, till her foot was placed 
 On very edge of Time, and one step more 
 Had trod that region human thoughts explore 
 
ELFRIDA. 155 
 
 To find it only darkness. " Yet I raised 
 His sire to honour, so that all men praised 
 The noble Edgar. Who recalls ! I fonnd 
 This matchless king debased, corrupted, bound, 
 A slave to lawless passions ! that I shook 
 The vipers from him, and refused to brook 
 Dishonour near us. Now that husband's child 
 Sweeps from his pathway-^— me, as thing defiled 
 By pride, that raised his father." And she shook 
 la every member, while her features took 
 Less womanly expression, as the thought 
 What chance might yet be, fearful wishes 
 
 wrought, 
 That suited darkness — and her fingers seemed 
 To clutch the victim of whose end she dreamed. 
 
 She paused and listen'd, for there rose within 
 A little voice that plaintive, sought to win 
 Attention from the mother — then with scorn 
 Closed fast her ears as one who now had borne 
 
156 ELPEIDA. 
 
 Too long with human weakness, and henceforth 
 Would only crush while power sustained her wrath 
 Or answered inclination. But the cry 
 Caught other ears and brought attendants nigh, 
 Who wond'ring came to seek her. Round she 
 
 turned 
 In rage upon them, and all offers spumed 
 The trembling damsels made her. " Get ye hence, 
 Te graceless wenches ! Make no false pretence 
 Of duty to me. I would be alone ; 
 And call'd you not ; " and they who long had known 
 The spirit in her, shrank away abashed, 
 Like lambs from she-wolf into fury lashed. 
 
 Tor hours she braved the tempest, but at length 
 Fatigue was master and o'ercame the strength 
 That kept her there defiant. Cold and wet, 
 ^he stagger' d in, impatient to forget 
 Mad thoughts in slumber — tore with haste 
 The dank robes from her — ^hurriedly embraced 
 
ELFEIDA. 157 
 
 Her iv'ry crucifix, with murmured speech, 
 Whose holy phrases were design'd to reach 
 The ear of blessed Mary ; flung her down 
 Ere half was ended, and before the frown 
 To smiles had faded, by a torpid rest, 
 The power of matter over mind confess'd. 
 
 With early morn her little prattler came 
 Beside her couch, with infant's wonted claim, 
 And woke Ms mother. She, in kinder frame, 
 Held out her hand, and, in affection's name. 
 Spake blessings on him ; bore his little ways 
 With patient pleasure, finding words of praise 
 For new-found speech or gambol ; tost him high 
 To see if he would brave it, then would try 
 What strength his limbs had gathered, or profess 
 A sudden grief, to claim his love's redress. 
 
 But soon came feelings of a darker kind, 
 As fancy traced his future in her mind, 
 
158 ELFEIDA. 
 
 To show it mean — unkingly. "[So they took 
 Thy birthright from thee," and she hasty shook 
 Aside her ravell'd tresses, that his hand 
 Had comb'd across her features ; made him 
 
 stand 
 At arm's length from her, and surveyed his faoe 
 With flashing eyes, whose spirit longed to trace 
 A kiadred nature in him — saw the play 
 Of soul lethargic cumbered with the clay, 
 It dimpled into laughter, and with frown, 
 Shook joy to terror, as she put him down. 
 
 " A pretty Nithing fit to sport with girls, 
 And pass his days in twisting golden curls, 
 To make a baby love him ! This my son ! 
 I will not own him. Changeling, get thee gone ! 
 Bring back my Ethelred ! the boy I bare ! 
 "Who, like his mother, had a soul to dare 
 The paths which lead to glory," and the child 
 Shrank trembling from her, wondering she reviled, 
 
BLFKIDA. 159 
 
 Who late had praised him ; seading through his tears 
 Beseeching glances, till she crowned his fears 
 By raising hand to smite ; then scared he turned 
 And fled the spot where causeless anger burned. 
 
 A royal hunt was ordered, and the place 
 Selected for it was the mighty chase — 
 Around Elfrida's castle. All the day 
 She sat and listened, hearing stag-hounds bay, 
 Or hunters cheer them onward; sadly thought 
 Of other days, and wished the monarch's sport 
 Might end iu some disaster. Toward the eve 
 She saw one nearing. Did her eyes deceive, 
 Or was it Edward? 'Twas indeed the king. 
 Whom sylvan chances had conspired to bring 
 Where Corfe rose plain before him, and the 
 
 sight 
 Recall'd Ms brother. He would not alight 
 But simply ask how fared him, and be back 
 Ere anxious courtiers should have time to lack 
 
160 
 
 ELFBIDA. 
 
 Or Dunstan doubt Ms safety. At the gate 
 Hip rein was drawn, and there he sat to wait 
 For little Ethelred, while soon with glee 
 The boy ran to him laughing joyously. 
 
 Elfrida followed. " Would he not repose : 
 The day was sultry !" " No, he only chose 
 A stirrup wine-cup ; he would drink it there 
 If so it pleased her." Soon a maiden bare 
 The goblet to him. Edward forward bent 
 And took it from her, roguishly intent 
 To pay with kisses ; started as in pain, 
 Threw down the cup, quick spurred his steed again 
 And fled the castle, while to trace his track 
 Death drain'd life's crimson, from his wounded back. 
 
 " The foul fiend take thee ! Say Elfrida sent 
 And curs'd at parting ; now thou art content 
 With less than empire." Then to him she turned 
 Who did her bidding — " Bicca, thou hast earned 
 
ELFKIDA. 161 
 
 Thy freedom bravely. Bah ! what scares thee so ? 
 Who dares to question when a worthy blow 
 Has won a noble kingdom ! Ethelred, 
 Come hither, child." But Ethelred had fled 
 When Bicca smote his brother. " Where's the boy, 
 Your rightful king, now fated to enjoy 
 His father's honours?" But unseen by all 
 The boy had gone, so answered not their call. 
 
 Within the forest was a noted Fane, 
 Where sinful penitents repaired to gain 
 The prayers of Simon, an ascetic monk, 
 Whose painful life the prime of manhood sunk 
 In age and feebleness, until his frame 
 Through ghastly leanness, might Death's kindred 
 
 claim. 
 As like in every feature. Night and day 
 He knelt before the altar, for to pray 
 Seemed food he mostly needed, and the bread 
 His body lack'd, the soul upraised and fed, 
 
 M 
 
162 BLFKIDA. 
 
 Till men believed in lieu of grosser food 
 His eyes imbibed life's essence from the rood. 
 
 The day so pregnant with a nation's fate 
 Had calmly passed o'er Simon; sins can wait 
 When monarchs smile on sinners, so all day 
 No soul came near him, and it slid away 
 Unbroken in its stillness. Late at eve 
 A child rushed in whose faHcy seemed to weave 
 Strange horrors from remembrance, and who clung 
 To Simon's garments as though life were hung 
 On being ever near him. "Peace, my son, 
 They shall not harm; what is it thou hast 
 
 done 
 To make thee dread thy mother ?" Ere reply 
 Could leave his lips a tumult sounded nigh 
 Of hasty steps and voices — ^then the place 
 Was fiUed to crowding, aijd Elfrida's face 
 Glared wrathful on the father. " You have hid 
 The boy we followed." " Daughter, I forbid 
 
BLFEIDA. 163 
 
 This profanation." " Ah, you have Mm there !" 
 
 She seized the child, and drew him by his hair 
 
 From underneath the cassock — flung aside 
 
 The feeble hermit, who a moment tried 
 
 To shield him from her, then from off the shrine 
 
 A candle snatch' d, and, ere they could divine 
 
 What purpose sway'd her, struck poor Ethelred 
 
 So hardly with it that he lay as dead 
 
 Upon the ground before her. Then she paused 
 
 To gaze aghast upon the ill she caused, 
 
 And fear her hand had slain him, and the 
 
 prize 
 She almost clutched was vanished from her eyes. 
 
 The priest knelt down beside the little form, 
 And found it breathing. He dismissed the swarm 
 Of idle folk that thronged him ; to his cell 
 Bare oS the suff'rer — ^tended long and weU, 
 Then brought him to his mother. " God again 
 Restores thy child, but do not overstrain 
 
164. ELFRIDA. 
 
 The chords of mercy, for there is an end 
 
 To His endurance. Nay, my little friend, 
 
 Thy mother loves thee, though she sometimes blend 
 
 Some harshness with affection ; go thy way, 
 
 I will come to thee. — ^Daughter, I must pray 
 
 For thy forgiveness ; 'tis a sin indeed 
 
 Thou hast committed ; penance for thy need 
 
 I wUl appoint thee, but now get you gone. 
 
 Act with discretion — pity thou hast none." 
 
 Again Elfrida grasped the reins of power, 
 But found life's tempests shattered every flower 
 That decked her pleasant places. To her name 
 Was joined a title rousing hate or shame 
 In those who served her, while the good and great. 
 Contending ever who should rule the state, 
 The murd'ress cursed in whispers. England's saint 
 Fann'd every rumour ; fostered each complaint, 
 And often boldly braved her, only yet 
 The name of Edgar served in part to let 
 
BLmirDA. 165 
 
 Abhorrence of his widow, and her boy — 
 
 His little son ! conld others' act destroy 
 
 The rights that sonship gave him ? He was still 
 
 Their rightful king ; to work his mother ill 
 
 Was treason then undoubted, so her life 
 
 A bubble shone upon the anxious strife 
 
 Of duty, hate, and loathing. She soon learned 
 
 Unstable power by guilt's ambition earned 
 
 Is bittered by its canker, and that peace 
 
 Must still be absent, e'en when Death release. 
 
 The Teacher said to those who would be 
 great. 
 
 The greatest most shall serve, 
 To others' wishes minister, and wait 
 Until the Arbiter of human fate 
 
 Shall say who well deserve. 
 
 But selfish souls that present honor seek 
 And claim our common earth. 
 
166 ELPEIDA. 
 
 But build on sand a monument, to speak 
 Of vain endeavour, impious as weak, 
 And rising, sink in worth. 
 
 A breath from Heaven ! the work of years is 
 gone! 
 
 To dust, dust turns again, 
 And gilded palace where the haughty one 
 As regal garb put pride and vengeance on, 
 
 Amazed, we seek in vain. 
 
 The hapless Edward, sickened by the wound, 
 BOad spurred his horse, who bore until he swooned 
 And death-like totter'd from him. Palling then, 
 The stirrup held, while down the rugged glen 
 Eushed on his steed unguided, and with awe 
 His frighted Thanes one horrid moment saw 
 Death dashing madly by them. On they sped 
 To aid, if might be, but the man was dead 
 Late hail'd as king ; for when they reached, he lay 
 
167 
 
 A loathsome ruin, friends could hardly say 
 Eesembled human being. Quickly came 
 Elfrida's minions, claiming in her name 
 The mangled body. They in cruel spite 
 Bid flames consume it with the 'minish'd rite 
 That fits a base-born, and the ashes bare 
 To homely Wareham — careless flung them there 
 To lie forgotten, while with loud demand 
 They ravish'd fortune, from the groaning land. 
 
 A few years' struggle and the burden grew 
 Too heavy for Elfrida. She withdrew 
 Once more to Corfe before her foes had gained 
 The power to banish, for she stOl disdained 
 To serve the priesthood, and no other rule 
 Might rival with it. 'Twas a bitter school 
 Her pride had gone to, and her soul had brought 
 No pupil's meekness, soothing those who taught. 
 And now she left it, feeling that their hate 
 "Would dog her footsteps, like remorseless fate 
 
168 ELFRIDA. 
 
 That never could grow weary ; life was drear, 
 More drear than she had known it, e'en that 
 
 year 
 She waited in lone Devon, Summer days 
 Had fled her nature, for bright hopeful rays 
 Broke never on its winter, and the chill 
 Sank deeper in her being, as the will 
 Was frozen by inaction, till at last 
 Her past was present and her present past. 
 
 The tempter whisper'd of a secret art 
 That yet might serve to overcome the smart 
 Of baffled vengeance, and repay the wrong 
 She fancied done her. Soon the wish grew strong 
 And brought forth action. Lighted by the moon 
 She silent stole to crave the fearful boon 
 That bars salvation. Lonely in the wood 
 A wrinkled Hecate, bending earthward, stood 
 'Md triple lines and circles — slowly traced 
 Great names and symbols, by ill thought misplaced 
 
ELFEIDA. 169 
 
 On ground she made unholy. Then began 
 Such awful speech that human life-blood ran 
 In colder, slower pulses, while the breath 
 Stole forth like guilty terror. Still as death 
 Elfrida watched, and, crouching in the shade, 
 Believed some power the heaving branches swayed 
 More rudely than the night- wind, and she thought 
 Her eye caught figures that appeared to sport 
 With shadows on the greensward, while each 
 
 sound 
 Seem'd cry of spirit potent spell had bound. 
 
 But veil'd by friendly cover of the night 
 Keen eyes had marked them, to behold the rite 
 With look that boded evU, and their track 
 Was silent foUow'd, as they travell'd back 
 Unconscious of observer. At the gate 
 The women parted, and the crone of fate 
 Returned to seek her hovel. 'Cross the road 
 A mufSed figure on a sudden strode. 
 
170 ELFEIDA. 
 
 And seized the frighted creature, while a hand 
 Press'd on her mouth, enforced the stern demand 
 For instant silence — "Daughter, who but now 
 Has parted from thee ?" " Prithee, man, allow 
 Some chance of breathing ;" and she sought to free 
 The hand he f etter'd. " What is that to thee ? 
 I shall not tell it." " Shall I summon aid 
 That can enforce it ? thou canst not evade 
 My power or question. Woman, I have seen 
 Thy heathen practice, and thy friend the queen 
 Is powerless to protect thee." " Sure I know 
 That voice, my lord, as one that soothed my woe 
 As I lay sick at Ely ! can it really be 
 Good Abbot Brithnoth 1 " " Daughter, I am he." 
 
 Then glibly sliding from a fluent tongue 
 Came words that seem'd ' from grateful mem'ry 
 
 sprung 
 To pay past kindness, and the abbot's heart 
 In guileless weakness chose a softer part 
 
ELFEIDA. 171 
 
 Than prudence sanctioned, — ^but the shadows hid 
 
 Those cold keen glances that she stealthy shd 
 
 Like daggers at her captor. " Am I right 
 
 To trust thee, woman ? " " God Almighty smite 
 
 With quick damnation if I fail in aught 
 
 Through wiU or slackness." "Daughter, words are 
 
 naught." 
 " Then prove with deeds, and thou shalt find me prone 
 To do thy pleasure." "I would speak alone 
 With queen Elfrida ; if I can would save 
 From danger pending, so return and crave 
 An audience for me," and he set her free — 
 A woman fiend who hated purity. 
 
 A Uttle while and Brithnoth pass'd the gate 
 Where seldom priest had enter'd in of late, 
 And none with friendly meaning. On before 
 The old dame totter'd till she reached a door. 
 Whose massive strength seem'd fitted to withstand 
 All hostile force that entrance might demand, 
 
172 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Or captive seeking exit. At her word 
 The creaking hinges on their pivots stirred, 
 And shewed a vaulted chamber. In she pass'd 
 With steps familiar, while the abbot cast 
 Half-doubting glances after — ^breathed a prayer 
 Against all evil that might wait him there ; 
 Then nerved by faith, calm, silent entered in, 
 A Christian warrior armed to combat sin. 
 
 Three silver angels from the eeihng hung 
 With flaming crowns that soften'd glory flung 
 About the arras'd chamber, and revealed 
 Embroidered marvels that the walls concealed, 
 And pictured scenes voluptuous. Softly spread 
 The rushes newly gather' d, that the tread 
 Might wake no prating echoes. Rare perfume 
 Of eastern fragrance wandered through the 
 
 room 
 Like disembodied rapture, that allured 
 The watchful soul to slumber, and secured 
 
ELFREDA. 173 
 
 Unbidden entrance ; then the will oppress'd, 
 Through sense of sweet anticipated rest. 
 
 The abbot entered, and the door was closed 
 Before his eye, familiarised, reposed 
 On any single object, so the priest 
 Stared doubtful round, and seeing, loathed the feast 
 Of carnal degradation. Wrath he turned 
 To rate his guide, but with amazement learned 
 She was no longer near him. " Saints forfend 
 All evil issue. Mary ! snecour lend. 
 And keep a soul endanger'd." Then Ms eyes 
 "Were firmly closed like one who sense denies 
 A moment's brief indulgence, while he told 
 His beads, with fingers reason scarce controll'd. 
 
 A soft arm stole around the abbot's neck, 
 Who started up impatiently, to check 
 A freedom so unsaintly. In a dress 
 Whose scanty prudence hardly could be less 
 
174 ELl'EIDA. 
 
 There stood Elfrida ; looking ia that light 
 So fair a thing, that wrong seem'd doubtful right 
 If she required it ; but the abbot's soul 
 Was surely guarded, and could still control 
 Emotions that were sinful. " Get thee gone 
 Thou brazen harlot ! Love thee ! I have none 
 But for the pure and godlike.'' Then he turned 
 His back upon her ; and the woman spumed 
 Became forthwith a demon. At her call 
 Came back the heU-dame with six women tail 
 Who waited on her pleasure, and but feared 
 The wrath of one whose potence they revered. 
 
 " The sorry knave, to think he might abuse 
 A lonely woman ! that I could refuse 
 No favour he demanded ! Fellow, cease. 
 Or I will kill thee ! Let thy tongue release 
 
 Another word, and " " Daughters, hold ! 
 
 She speaketh falsely." " Art thou, priest, so 
 bold: 
 
ELFBEDA. 175 
 
 Then die in folly ;" and a deadly harm 
 Forthwith she did him — thrusting 'neath the arm 
 Her golden tirepin, which transfixed his heart 
 Before they could arrest her. " Now impart 
 Thy scandals on EKrida — tell them all 
 To fiends, or angels, for the chance is small 
 That man will hear them." Then she turned away, 
 And callous left the room where Brithnoth lay. 
 
 Next morn 'twas rumoured that the holy man 
 Expired while sleeping ; briny torrents ran 
 From eyes that watched his ending, but had shewn 
 No mercy for him ; and soft Pity's tone 
 On cold lips trembled, which had mocked the groan 
 Of bitter mortal anguish. He was dead, 
 Who could repugn her ; so Elfrida said 
 Whate'er she listed, while her maids, confirmed 
 That all had happened just as she affirmed ; 
 And as the body shewed no sign of harm, 
 Doubt seem'd unreason when it would alarm, 
 
176 ELFEIDA. 
 
 Surmising evil practice. Then the awe 
 Of will imperious, curbed the hand of law, 
 And almost gave immunity from blame, 
 While conscience deadened, e'er excluded shame. 
 
 But some men thought her guilty, and desired 
 To further justice. Dunstan, too, required 
 A special inquest, and himself came down 
 To try the matter, for a woman's frown 
 Was but a distant tempest that might taint 
 The peace of worldlings, but amused a saint 
 With far-off peals and flashes. 'Twas in vain 
 Blfrida raged, the corpse was brought again 
 As witness 'gainst her, but it nothing told 
 To common eyes — nay, would not all unfold 
 For wisdom's master. So he held his peace, 
 Buried his friend, and bade ill whispers cease. 
 
 The tomb of Edward had obtained repute 
 Of healing virtue — tongues by nature mute 
 
BLPEIDA. 177 
 
 Gained verbal freedom, and the aged blind 
 
 Through blessed faith might restoration find 
 
 To sight's endowments ; while if any lay 
 
 'Neath load of slander, that was cleared away, 
 
 And truth became unsullied. Rumour said 
 
 The queen would make a pilgrimage, and spread 
 
 Until it reached Elfrida. 'Twas a thing 
 
 She never dreamed of; whence the thought could 
 
 spring 
 'Twere vain to question, but to shrink would 
 
 plead 
 A secret knowledge of some guilty deed 
 That could not risk exposure ; that preferred 
 Security to honor, so deferred 
 A pleasant journey of a summer's day, 
 Lest truth should rend the screen of doubt 
 
 away. 
 
 So, much reluctant, and with sinking heart. 
 The queen agreed to act unwonted part 
 
178 ELPKIDA. 
 
 Of holy penitent, who humbly came 
 To challenge slander and truth's voucher claim 
 Through commonplace confession. Late one day 
 A message came to Simon as he lay 
 In penance at the altar. " Could he spare 
 Some hours for one who needed ghostly care, 
 And much desired his counsel ? " Simon rose 
 With some reluctance, for he seldom chose 
 To quit the holy precincts ; but he deemed 
 That duty's claim should rather be esteemed 
 Than saintly act of worship, and obeyed 
 Each holy calling, howsoever made. 
 
 He soon was usher'd in that fatal room 
 Where hapless Brithnoth found a martyr's 
 
 doom 
 Without a martyr's honors ; but the place 
 Was strangely altered ; not a single trace 
 Of evil lingered ! On the walls were spread 
 Embroider'd pictures, where the gazer read 
 
Ei.FEroA. 179 
 
 Some holy lesson — how devotion strong 
 Had sought to expiate imagined wrong, 
 Or mortify a sinner. In a nook, 
 Dark-robed and solemn — poring o'er a book, 
 Sat lone Elfrida, who but raised her eyes 
 To feast upon the crucifix ; while sighs, 
 Deep drawn and grievous, told of troubled mind 
 That would disburden sorrow, and inclined 
 To impulses most holy. But withal 
 A ceaseless vigilance recorded all 
 That others did or uttered — ^while anon. 
 Impatient flashes might be traced upon 
 Her too serene expression. To her side 
 Came father Simon — " Grod in mercy guide 
 Thy heart repentant ! Daughter, there is joy 
 Among the angels when such thoughts employ 
 A contrite sinner." Nought Elfrida said, 
 But bending lowly, veiled a scornful head 
 Within her sable mantle — as the light 
 "Was far too pure to bless her guilty sight. 
 
180 ELFEIDA. 
 
 The priest knelt down beside her, and appeared 
 To pray in tones that love had once endeared 
 To that Elfrida, who in early youth 
 Had almost yielded to the voice of truth 
 When pleading for affection — and e'en she 
 Grew somewhat softened — almost wishing he 
 Had fairly won her. Then, as in a trance, 
 The past arose, and mem'ry at a glance 
 Saw years of gilded mockery and pain — 
 She could not, dared not, would not live 
 
 again'; 
 And shrouding still her late imperious head, 
 She trembled, wept — ^then from the hermit fled. 
 
 A few days later, and with early morn, 
 The queen appeared of earthly grandeur shorn, 
 And clad in sorry raiment. Like a reed 
 Bow'd down by tempest, she appear'd to plead 
 For mitigated fury. From her face 
 The steed's impatience sometimes would displace 
 
ELFKIDA. 181 
 
 Its cherished covering, and those glimpses told 
 What fierce emotions hardly were controlled 
 Beneath its frozen whiteness. At her side 
 Walked father Simon, who essayed to guide 
 Her thoughts to holy fervour, and she heard 
 With some attention, for his accents stirred 
 Old chords that once were human, though disuse 
 Had left them almost tuneless ; so a truce 
 To warring passions, dim remorse obtained. 
 And o'er the queen a woman's weakness reigued. 
 
 Along they jonrney'd till from distant hill 
 The shrine appeared, when lo ! the horse stood 
 
 still 
 Like statue 'neath, Elfrida. 'Twas in vain 
 They urged him onwards ; spur, and whip, and rein 
 Alike were useless, while the beasts which bare 
 Her seared attendants instant rooted there 
 As though each carried Balaam. Then her strength 
 Of evil courage was o'ercome at length, 
 
182 ELPKIDA. 
 
 And helpless sank Elfrida. In his arms 
 The hermit caught her, shielding her from harms 
 As might a tender mother, — laid her down 
 Upon a shady hUlock — loosed the gown 
 That hindered her from breathing, and gave heed 
 To all things fitting — serving nature's need 
 Until she rallied ; and, with sense restored, 
 Her wand'ring eyes his anxious face explor'd 
 To learn that Sigfred tended. Then they closed 
 Like hopeful infant's that in peace reponed. 
 
 Oh love of man ! could woman ever know 
 Such constant, kindly sympathy for woe 
 As thou canst render ? Could her all express 
 One haU thy tenderness, or rise to bless 
 The hand whose gift was ruin 1 Could it wait 
 If unrequited, and not wed with Hate, 
 Or nurse the brood of Vengeance? Could it 
 
 hope 
 Another happy, where it found no scope 
 
ELFEIDA. 183 
 
 For germs of truth it planted, and whose roots 
 TTptorn and bleeding, find no soil that suits 
 Their delicate perfectioi, but must die 
 TJnblest, unfruitful, where they chance to lie. 
 
 Heart-worn by vice, a Kbertine ingrain, 
 May sully breath, and umooence disdain ; 
 It needs the malice of a woman's soul 
 To mock affections that her charms control ; 
 To clothe word-venom in a honey'd dress, 
 And plant a sting by words that love confess ; 
 To toy capricious with a wounded heart, 
 And feel delight, her wiU has caused its smart ; 
 Lure Hope to Hell, then sudden skip aside 
 To giggle triumph in the arms of Pride. 
 
 Oh, mothers ! daughters ! will you not believe 
 Each worthy Adam seeks a real Eve ; 
 No toy of fashion, wooing ape's caress, 
 Through crafty lewdness, trumpeted by dress ; 
 
184 
 
 ELFRIDA. 
 
 Bat one dear soul that tallies with his own, 
 
 By whom completeness can be reached and known. 
 
 No pretty flatt'rer, smiling to deceive — 
 
 Herself truth-taught, she can his truth believe ; 
 
 Rejoice not in his glory or success, 
 
 But when his aims true manhood would express ; 
 
 Bind wounds ot soul, with love's intu'tive care, 
 
 Whose touch, word, look, give instant power to bear ; 
 
 A helpful woman in a woman's place, 
 
 Such crowns with joy the hope of human race ; 
 
 Stands first in honor — Adam's better life. 
 
 And gives back Eden when he calls her wife. 
 
 A lonely woman mumbles o'er her beads 
 Within a cell at Wherwell, where she leads 
 A life of deepest penance. Tvrenty years 
 Have not sufficed to calm remorse, and fears 
 Whose fangs still rend her spirit. Once a queen, 
 She would forget and hide it in a mien 
 
ELFEIDA. 185 
 
 Whose glory is abasement. All are dead 
 Whom once she hated, and her silver'd head 
 Is nodding for death's slumber. What to her 
 Are deeds or passions that awake and stir 
 The spirit of a nation 1 They may sell 
 Its honor to the stranger — stoop to dwell 
 In pnrchased safety, and despise the fame 
 Their fathers cherished as an empty name 
 By which they cannot profit. She has done 
 With pride for ever, and her royal son 
 Now rules her Edgar's kingdom. Let him rule 
 The Danes dependent and the cleric's tool, 
 If so it please him : life for her is past. 
 And though death linger, he will come at last. 
 
 END or ELFBIDA. 
 
W'*''"' ""^'^^fiap^ 
 
 Mary 
 
MAEY. 
 
 MAKT AT BETHLEHEM. 
 
 At last the fulness of the times was come, 
 The mighty Word became a mortal child ; 
 
 And, while Creation stood amazed and dumb, 
 On Grod flesh-born a Jewish mother smiled, 
 
 And felt why angel voices could proclaim 
 
 That woman blest by whom Messiah came. 
 
 With holy meekness she had bow'd her head, 
 Proudly content to serve Jehovah's will, 
 
 A shameless mother, though a wife unwed, 
 Her truth sufficing to uphold her still, 
 
 While God as man drew being from her breast, 
 
 And in her arms found cradle for his rest. 
 
190 MARY. 
 
 Her son — and God's ! her God — ^but yet her child ; 
 
 He weak, but strong! she strong, but — oh, how 
 weak ! 
 She sinful flesh ! He manhood undefiled ! 
 
 Fluent her lips ! His impotent to speak. 
 Yet her voice moved not ; His should life restore 
 By words that mortal never spake before. 
 
 So Mary loved to commune vrith her heart, 
 
 While people wondered what her child would be ; 
 
 She was content to wait and learn the part 
 Which God assigned her in His Mystery ! 
 
 A simple r61e, that Eve had play'd of yore, 
 
 A woman and a mother ! nothing more. 
 
191 
 
 MART IN EGYPT. 
 
 From two years old and under all were dead, 
 Save the young child, whose mother with him fled 
 To Egypt ! where the bondsman's bitter bread 
 Was eaten by his fathers, till the hand 
 Of Moses led them to the promised land. 
 
 There Mary dwelt a stranger, and the place 
 Of kindred was afar ! No kindly face 
 Look'd on the exile 'mid a heathen race 
 Save Joseph's and the child's ; but they repaid 
 Her love with love, and Hope's oasis made. 
 
 Her son was now a thing of every day ; 
 His birth's strange drama faded half away 
 From memory's pages, till it seemed to lay 
 In a far dreamland, and her waking mind 
 Could feeble trace of real, in it find. 
 
192 MARY. 
 
 Her thoughts, what were they ! life was very dark 
 Each weary day, but hours that left a mark 
 Of toil and sorrow with one failing spark 
 Of Joy to brighten ! Was the child indeed 
 Her nation's hope ? the Woman's promis'd seed ! 
 
MART. 193 
 
 MAET IlSr THE TEMPLE. 
 
 The child was lost ; they sought him all the day 
 'Mong friends and kindred, but found none to say, 
 " Behold thy son, oh mother ! " so in grief 
 Turn'd back again, despairing of relief ; 
 Entered God's temple, where the child was found, 
 A wondrous centre, sages circled round. 
 
 " Why hast thou dealt so with us ?" Mary said, 
 " We sought in sorrow, fearing thou wert dead 
 " Or lost for ever ;" and the child replied 
 " My Father's business called me from thy side, 
 " Must I not be about it?" Yet he went 
 Back to their home, obedient and content. 
 
 And then this woman waited many years, 
 
 Like patient watcher when the day appears 
 
 Too long in coming ; and the virgin's son 
 
 A common toiler, common blessings won, 
 o 
 
194 MAiir. 
 
 And fared as all around him, but gave sign 
 Of no endowment fitting work Divine. 
 
 Poor mother, weeping over hope deferred, 
 Wait thou, like Mary, till the voice is heard 
 That calls thy son to labour. God's decree 
 Must be accomplished, and thy boy may be 
 A chosen vessel for the Master's need, 
 And thou in him, like Mary, bless'd indeed. 
 
MAKT. 195 
 
 MARY AT CANA. 
 
 The guests were many, and they wanted wine ; 
 The bridegroom was abashed. He could divine 
 No means to save liis honor — and his grief 
 Moved Mary's wish, to tender him relief. 
 
 " Son, wine is lacking." " Woman, what to me 
 Is such a matter ! have I aught with thee ?" 
 Then Pity moved, and subject to her power. 
 He softer whisper' d, " 'Tis not yet mine hour." 
 
 But Mary caught assurance as she heard ; 
 And conscious grown of mystic power that stirred 
 E'en now within him, simple words and few 
 Spake to the servers, " What he bids you, do." 
 
 The common water-pots of stone were fiUed 
 With common water, as her Jesus willed. 
 
196 MART. 
 
 And lo ! they drew out wine, the ruler praised 
 As very good, and all men were amazed. 
 
 Who ever felt as Mary felt that day. 
 When at her touch the veil was rent away 
 That shrouded God in manhood, and at last 
 Her doubts and fears to Hope's fruition past. 
 
MART. 197 
 
 MART AT THE CEOSS. 
 
 Now — It is finished ! All the work is done 
 The Father gave Him — for the goal is won 
 He sought through suff'ring, and beside the cross 
 His earthly mother weeps her earthly loss. 
 
 She thought, with others, He had come to reign 
 A mighty monarch, and for Judah gain 
 High place among the nations, but He died 
 A felon on the cross : so Hope had lied. 
 
 There came up softly one her son had loved, 
 And drew her to him ; one whose wishes moved 
 Obedient to his Master's, as he claimed 
 The vacant place and name that Jesus named. 
 
 Was it not comfort He had thought of her 
 'Mid all his anguish ; yet such thought must stir 
 
198 MAET. 
 
 Eepining sorrow, for the voice was fled 
 
 That spake to cheer her — she beheld Him dead. 
 
 " Come, mother, home !" — she heedlessly complied, 
 And leaned on him, who, constant to her side, 
 "Upheld the mourner ; all was nothing now — 
 Joy's light was gone — grief's darkness veiled her brow. 
 
MARY. 199 
 
 THE ANGEL AT THE SEPULCHRE. 
 
 " Why seek ye here the living ? " and they saw 
 
 The God-sent angel with a holy awe. 
 He sat upon the stone, they feared would bar 
 Their love from Jesus, and as faded star 
 
 When sun arises, they would fain withdraw. 
 
 " He is not here, but risen ! Come, behold 
 Where Joseph laid him ;" and then waxing bold 
 Through words so gracious, fii-st they silent gazed. 
 Then ran to his disciples, and amazed 
 Their doubts with joyful tidings that they told. 
 
 What thought the angel, as upon the stone 
 He sat and waited 1 All the past was known. 
 But was the future? Could he trace the plan 
 That God had formed, and see the perfect man 
 Who lives hereafter, to God's image grown. 
 
l^OO MAKY. 
 
 We only know he spake as from above, 
 With tones and looks best fitted to remove 
 The sting that Death inherits from the race 
 Who died before their dear ones, and whose place 
 Is still kept vacant in the halls of Love. 
 
 Speak to me, mighty angel, when I mourn, 
 When Love is gone and Hope remains forlorn. 
 To grovel earthward ; whisper in mine ear— » 
 " Thy friend is risen ! spirit bides not here ! 
 Thou too shall follow when thy day shall dawn." 
 
BREAN, 
 
BEEAN. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Under the hill ! under the hill ! 
 
 The old house standeth under the hill ; 
 
 And at eventide, when the air is still, 
 
 When the rippling wave o'er the green sward swells. 
 And tales of the deep to each floweret tells. 
 
 It seldom or never has been my lot 
 
 To visit a fairer, a brighter spot. 
 
 There's gladness in the old house now, 
 
 A light on the heart and a smile on the brow, 
 
206 BEEAN. 
 
 For the young and the fair 
 Together are there, 
 
 And the Christmas board is spread ; 
 And the misletoe hangs as it hung of yore, 
 Above the chimney, above the door ; 
 
 And the maidens pause as they're passing by, 
 
 Lest the favour'd one should be lingering nigh ; 
 And He, does he love a whit the less, 
 Though the maiden half proffer a sly caress, 
 
 As she blushes and hangs her head. 
 
 Away from the hill ! away from the hill ! 
 There's a merry party away from the hill ; 
 Not a heart beats slow. 
 
 Not a voice is still, 
 As gladly they go 
 Away from the hill. 
 A bride has gone from the old house door, 
 And the place that knew her will know no 
 more. 
 
207 
 
 She hag left the home of her earlier years, 
 She has gone amid blessings, regrets, and tears, 
 And hopes for the life in store. 
 
 Oh, may that fair yomig maiden find 
 A. happier home than the home behind, 
 
 In the world that lies before. 
 May her life be ever the life of those 
 Whom cycles of endless bhss enclose. 
 
 Who sorrow — who hope no more 
 
BEE AN. 
 
 PAKT II. 
 
 Under tlie hill ! under the hill ! 
 
 The old house standeth under the hill, 
 
 And at eventide when the wind is shrill, 
 
 When the boiling surge o'er the green sward swells, 
 
 And tales of ruin and havoc tells, 
 It seldom or never has been my lot 
 To visit a wilder, a bleaker spot. 
 
 There's sadness in the old house now, 
 
 A blight on the heart, and a shade on the brow; 
 
 There's sorrow and care, 
 
 Aye — almost despair. 
 And the widow's wail for the dead. 
 
210 BREAN. 
 
 A fathei"'s voice is heard no more 
 Within the chimney, without the door, 
 And the children pause as they're passing by, 
 For sorrow and death seem lingering nigb. 
 The children who love not a whit the less, 
 Though sadly and mutely around they press, 
 Where he lay down his honored head. 
 
 Away from the hill ! away from the hill ! 
 There's a solemn party away from the hill, 
 Every heart beats slow. 
 
 Every voice is still 
 As sadly they go 
 Away from the hill. 
 The Dead hath gone from the old house door, 
 And the place that knew him will know no 
 
 more ; 
 He has left the home of his earlier years 
 He has gone amidst blessings, regrets, and tears. 
 And hopes for the life in store. 
 
BEEAN. 211 
 
 Oh may that father's spirit find 
 
 A happier home than the home behind, 
 
 In the world that hes before. 
 May his life be ever the life of those 
 Whom cycles of endless bliss enclose, 
 
 Who sorro.w^-who hope no more. 
 
BREAN. 
 
 PAET III. 
 
 Over the hill ! over the hill ! 
 The storm fiend howleth over the hlU. 
 His breath is strong 
 
 And his voice is shrill 
 As he howleth along 
 And over the hill. 
 
 The old house now is sad and dreary. 
 
 Lonely as house could ever be, 
 And the days drag on as though Time were weary 
 
 And years could never be. 
 And you sit you down by the old house fire, 
 
 Watching it slowly but surely sink ; 
 
214 BKEAN, 
 
 You gaze on glare till your eyeballs tire 
 
 And you must, though you would not think. 
 Then visions come in your dreamy mood, 
 
 While the cold and the dark draw nigher and 
 nigher, 
 And shadows flit and forms have stood 
 
 As you saw them once by the old house fire. 
 And your spirit groans— oh, God ! how dreary — 
 
 Dreary and lone is this life of mine. 
 Give ! give me rest ! for I'm weary, weary — 
 
 Weary of Ufe in this world of thine. 
 
 Then you breathless pause for an answering 
 
 word, 
 And there's not a sound but the wind and the 
 
 rain, 
 And you shudder to think of that awful power 
 
 That every day and every hour 
 Wanders o'er hiU, and valley and plain, 
 Seeking the souls that He may devour. 
 
BREAK. 215 
 
 And the howl of wind through the dash of the 
 
 rain 
 Seems like the lost one's wild refrain 
 As he shrieks o'er hill and valley and plain — 
 " Thy cry unanswered ! thy prayer unheard ! 
 Thou hast hoped ! thou hast hoped ! thou hast hoped 
 
 in vain ! " 
 
BEEAN 
 
 PAKT IV. 
 
 Over the hill ! over the hill ! 
 The spirit of love breathes over the hill. 
 His words are slow, 
 
 But his voice can thrill 
 As he whispereth low 
 Come, come to the hill ! 
 
 A bride has pass'd the old house door 
 
 Happy and bright as a bride should be, 
 
 And the wearisome hours that lagged before 
 Whirl on right swift and merrily. 
 
218 BEE AN. 
 
 There's a pleasant seat by the old house fire 
 
 Where she loves to dream, and she loves to think, 
 
 For her thoughts are the th oughts that never tire, 
 And her dreams the past and the future Unk. 
 
 She mutters the half remember'd word 
 Lisp'd long ago on her mother's knee, 
 
 And waifs of a dear old song are heard 
 That woo'd her to sleep in infancy, 
 
 And there's an answering voice within 
 
 Like echo'd chords of a seraph's strain, 
 
 "This woman hath won what she sought to win, 
 
 She has loved ! she has loved ! she is loved again !' 
 
 PRINTED BY McCORQUODALE AND CO., SOUTHWARK, LONDON.