Poems (May)/Juliette
JULIETTE.
Where the rough crags lift, and the sea-mews call, Yet frowns Earl Hubert's castle tall,Close at the base of its western wall The chafed waves stand at bay; And the May-rose twined in its banquet hall Dips to the showering spray. For the May-rose springs, and the ivy clings, And the wall-flower flaunts in the ruined bower, And the sea-bird foldeth her weary wings Up in the stone-gray tower; Scaling an arch of the postern rude A wild vine drops to the water's flow, Deep in the niches the blind owls brood, And the fringing moss hangs low, Where stout Earl Hubert's banner stood Five hundred years ago!
Out from the castle's western wall Jutteth a tower round and tall, And leading up to the parapet By a winding turret stair, Over the sea there looketh yet A chamber small and square, Where the faint daylight comes in alone Through a narrow slit in the solid stone; And here, old records say,Earl Hubert bore his wayward child From courts and gallants gay; That, guarded by the breakers wild, And cloistered from her lover's arms, Here might she mourn her wasted charms, Here weep her youth away.
"One! two!" said the sentinel, Watching the night from the eastern tower. Up in the turret a solemn knell Tolled for the parting hour; Over the ocean its echo fell, One! two!—like a silver bell Chiming afar in the sea-nymph's bower.
Shrill and loud -was the sea-bird's cry, The watch-dog bayed as the moon rose high, The great waves swelled below; And the measured plash of a dipping oar Broke softly through their constant roar, And paused beneath the shade Flung westward by that turret hoar Where slept the prisoned maid. The sentinel paced to and fro Under the castle parapet, But, in her chamber, Juliette Heard not the tramp of his clanging foot, Nor the watch-dog baying near:Only the sound of a low-toned lute Stole to her dreaming ear. The moon rode up as the night wore on, Looking down with a blinding glare Into that chamber still and lone, Touching the rough-hewn cross of stone, And the prayer beads glittering there; The loosened waves of the sleeper's hair, And the curve of her shoulder, white and bare.
She dreamed! she dreamed! that dreary keep Melted away in the calm moonbeams; The sea-bird's call and the wave's hoarse sweep, Changed for the lull of a forest deep, And the pleasant voice of streams. She seemed, at rest by a mossy stone, To watch the blood-red sun go down,And hang on the verge of the horizon Like a ruby set in a golden ring; To hear the wild birds sing Up in the larch boughs, loud and sweet,Over a turf where the soft waves beat With a sound like a naiad's dancing feet.
For here and there on its winding way Down by dingle and shady nook, Under the white thorn's dropping spray Glittered the thread of a slender brook, And scarce a roebuck's leap beyond,Close to the brink of its grassy bound, She heard her lover's chiding hound, His bugle's merry play.Oh, it was sweet again to be Under the free blue skies! She turned on her pillow restlessly, And the tears to her sleeping eyes Came welling up, as the full drops start At spring's first smile from a fountain's heart.
Up rose the maid in her dreamy rest, And flung a robe o'er her shoulders bare, And gathered the threads of her floating hair, Ere, with a foot on the turret stair She paused, then onward pressed,As the tones of a soft lute broke again Through the deeper chords of the voiceful main. Steep and rude was the perilous way, Through loopholes square and small The night looked into the turret gray, And over the massive wall In blocks of light the moonbeams lay, But the changeful ghosts of the showering spray, And the measured play of the waters dim Rippled and glanced on the ceiling grim.
The moon looked into her sleeping eyes, The night wind stirred her hair; And wandering blindly, Juliette, Close on the verge of the parapet, Stood without in the open air. Under the blue arch of the skies, Save for the pacing sentinel. Save for the ocean's constant swell, There seemed astir no earthly thing.Below, the great waves rose and fell,Scaling ever their craggy bound, But scarce a zephyr's dipping wing Broke the silver crust of the sea beyond; And in her life-like dream, The maiden now had wandered on To the brink of a slender stream, Then pausing, stayed her eager foot, For with the brook's sweet monotone Mingled the soft voice of a lute,And where the level sunbeams played Over the lap of a lawny glade, A hound lay sleeping in the shade.
Rocked by the light waves to and fro, Scarcely an arrow's flight from shore, Her lover in his bark below Paused, resting on the oar,Watching the foam wreaths dash and fall Like shattered stars from the castle wall. As higher yet he raised his eyes, Jesu! he started with affright; For, painted on the midnight skies,Seemed hovering in the tremulous light A figure small, and angel white! Against the east lay far and dim, Touched by the moon's uncertain ray, The airy form, the turret grim. Doubtful he paused a minute's space; Then rowed towards the castle's base, But checked his oar midway, And gazing up at the parapet,Shouted the one word, "Juliette!"
Lute, baying hound, and restless deep, Each gave the clue bewildered thought Had followed through the maze of sleep, And, by her lulled ear faintly caught, Her lover's voice its echo wrought.She heard him call, she saw him stand With smiling lip and beckoning hand,And closer pressed, and, dreaming yet, From the green margin of the stream, From the steep verge of the parapet, Sprang forward with a scream! Then once again the deep bell tolled Up in the turret gray and old, And mingled with its lingering knell, The echoed cry, half-heard, half-lost, Startled the weary sentinel Now slumbering at his post. But wakened from his dreamful rest, He deemed the sound some wandering ghost Haunting the shades of sleep; For like a bird upon its nest The hushed air brooded o'er the deep,And to his drowsy ear there crept Only the voice of the choral waves,Only the drip of the spray that wept, And the ripples that sang through the weedy caves. Nor marked he, ere again he slept, The muffled dip of a hasty oar, A steed's quick tramp along the shore. When morning came, a shallop's keel Grated the edge of the pebbly strand; A maid's small foot, and a knight's armed heel Were traced upon the sand.