36
A STORY OF OLDEN TIME.
On swift and silent sped the knight, yet at each step he trod
He startled up the happy things beloved of Sleep and God,
And through the rustling grass and leaves a hum, a twitter broke,
As if the Soul within them hid half-stirred before it woke.
So gliding swift 'twixt heavy boughs that stooping seemed to sign
With wet, cool finger on their brows a benison divine,
They gained a rocky, moss-grown stair; and where the fountain sprung,
One moment as above its deep dark mirror Guilbert hung,
He saw each wild-wood flower and fern that grew around the place,—
And looking upward from its depths a white and deathly face!
He startled up the happy things beloved of Sleep and God,
And through the rustling grass and leaves a hum, a twitter broke,
As if the Soul within them hid half-stirred before it woke.
So gliding swift 'twixt heavy boughs that stooping seemed to sign
With wet, cool finger on their brows a benison divine,
They gained a rocky, moss-grown stair; and where the fountain sprung,
One moment as above its deep dark mirror Guilbert hung,
He saw each wild-wood flower and fern that grew around the place,—
And looking upward from its depths a white and deathly face!
There smiled she on him in the light that never yet was cast
By earthly dawn. "Thou knowest me! thou knowest me, at last!"
But all his soul grew wild; from lips as pale as were her own,
He murmured, "Blind as ever; blind, that only now have known—
By earthly dawn. "Thou knowest me! thou knowest me, at last!"
But all his soul grew wild; from lips as pale as were her own,
He murmured, "Blind as ever; blind, that only now have known—
