Poems (Douglas)/The Gipsy Girl
The Gipsy Girl.
Gentle page, pause thee now, Lay down the lyre;Raise to this care-fraught brow Thine eyes of fire.Strange is the spell that lies In this dark glow,Fraught with soul sympathies For this heart's woe.
Oft have I noticed them Mournfully restOn pearl and costly gem, Beading my vest;On jewell'd tiara bright, Circling my hair,O'er this face now so white— White with heart's care.
E'en when these halls ring back Revelry's sounds,Memory reveals a track O'er other grounds;Then might you see my lip Wreath'd with a smile,For old companionship Is mine the while:
"List to me, boy: not where, Formal and proud,Breathing the pent-up air— House-dwellers crowdWas my young life confin'd, Sped childhood's hours!No; all was free as wind, Gay as the flowers.
"In glen and valley's heart, By the bright floods,From the world's busy mart Far in the woods,Dwelt I with wandering ones— Glad eyed and dark,Agile as forest fawns, Gay as the lark.
"The ceiling above us there Arched not saloons;The tapestries round us were Leafy festoons.The carpets on which we trod Pampered not pride;It was the enamell'd sod, Verdant and wide.
"While the dreams hovered still O'er waking flowers,To range the wild wood and hill Freely was ours; Ours—for, ah! never Roamed I forth alone,One playmate's arm ever Around me was thrown.
"Childhood's morn pass'd away, Life's early days,Then more of ardency Grew in his gaze;And more of tenderness In his tone dwelt;Oh! the pure happiness Either heart felt.
"Merry sounds eross'd the meads One sunny morn;Trampling of many steeds, Peals of a horn.Then a gay hunting throng Swept within sight,Chargers bore proud along Lady and Knight.
"Out sprang we hand in hand In our heart's glee:Eyes from amidst the band Rested on me.Then o'er me bent a face Haughty and wild;I swooned in the close embrace Sire gave to child.
"Yes, boy, the proofs were brought Of my high birth;Baby robes richly wrought Jewels of worth.Now the halls of an earl, "Mongst noble kin,Closes the gipsy girl Ever within:
"In from the valleys free From the fresh breeze,Dreamy hum of the bee, 'Neath the broad trees;Murmuring of joyous streams Dancing along,Dewy meads, early beams, And the lark's song.
"Fond words which lips of art Mock to express;And the warm, heart to heart, Love-fraught caress.Ah! to be jewell'd, garbed, Pining for rest;Discontent, like the barbed Steel in my breast."
Smiling, the page arose, Eyes beaming bright;Down at her feet he throws Tresses of light. Clustering his head around, Jetty curls lie;And his brow, sun embrowned 's Reft of its dye.
Emotions came o'er her 'Which words cannot vent;Her lover's before her— Yes, he of the tent.A whisper in Romany On her ear falls;And morn finds her far away From her sire's halls.