A gala night it was-the season's prime ;
We rode from castled lake to festal town,
To fair Milan-my friend and I ; rode down
By night, where grasses waved in rippled rhyme :
And so what theme but love in such a time?
His proud lip curved the while in silent scorn
At thought of love; and then, as one forlorn,
He sighed, then bared his temples, dashed with gray,
Then mocked, as one outworn and well blasé.
A gorgeous tiger-lily, flaming red,
So full of battle, of the trumpet's blare,
Of old-time passion, upreared its head.
I galloped past, I leaned, I clutched it there.
From out the long strong grass I held it high ;
And cried, "Lo! this to-night shall deck her hair
Through all the dance. And mark! the man shall die
Who dares assault, for good or ill design,
The citadel where I shall set this sign."
He spoke no spare word all the after while.
That scornful, cold, contemptuous smile of his !
Why, better men have died for less than this.
Then in the hall the same old hateful smile!
Then marvel not that when she graced the floor, With all the beauties gathered from the four
Far quarters of the world, and she, my fair,
The fairest, wore within her midnight hair
My tiger-lily-marvel not, I say,
That he glared like some wild beast well at bay!
Oh, she shone fairer than the summer star,
Or curled sweet moon in middle destiny.
More fair than sunrise climbing up the sea,
Where all the loves of Ariadne are.
Who loves, who truly loves, will stand aloof,
The noisy tongue makes most unholy proof
Of shallow waters-all the while afar
From out the dance I stood, and watched my star,
My tiger-lily, borne an oriflamme of war.
A thousand beauties flashed at love's advance,
Like bright white mice at moonlight in their play,
Or sunfish shooting in the shining bay,
The swift feet shot and glittered in the dance.
Oh, have you loved, and truly loved, and seen
Aught else the while than your own stately queen ?
Her presence it was majesty—so tall ;
Her proud development encompassed―all.
She filled all space. I sought, I saw but her.
I followed as some fervid worshipper.
Adown the dance she moved with matchless pace.
The world-my world-moved with her. Suddenly
I questioned who her cavalier might be.
'Twas he! His face was leaning to her face!
I clutched my blade; I sprang; I caught my breath,
And so stood leaning still as death.
And they stood still. She blushed, then reached and tore
The lily as she passed, and down the floor
She strewed its heart like bits of gushing gore.
'Twas he said, heads not hearts were made to break. He taught me this that night in splendid scorn.
I learned too well. The dance was done. Ere morn
We mounted-he and I-but no more spake.
And this for woman's love! My lily worn
In her dark hair in pride to be thus torn
And trampled on for this bold stranger's sake!
Two men rode silent back toward the lake.
Two men rode silent down, but only one
Rode up at morn to greet the rising sun.
The walls are steep,
The waves are deep;
And if the dead man should be found
By red-clad fishers in their round,
Why, who shall say but he was drowned?
have waited through the gloaming,
And have heard the evening chime,
While the songful river roaming,
To my beating heart kept time,
I have watched the stars appearing,
Lighting up their heav'nly home,
But no star to me came cheering,
For my darling did not come.
Ah! how gloomy seemed the bower,
Wanting Love's melodious tune;
O'er the ivy-shrouded tower
Rose the love-befriending moon;
But no beam my fond hopes lightened
Though I watched till mornings hum,
And the dawn no pathway brightened
For my darling did not come.
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