Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1835.pdf/92

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To her lonely palace made Far within the forest shade, Where the mournful fountains sweep With a voice that seems to weep. On that morn Lord Raymond's bride Ere the daybreak leaves his side. Never does the ladye speak, But her tears are on his cheek, And he hears a stifled moan As she leaves him thus alone. Hath she then complaint to make, Is there yet some spell to break? Come what will, of weal or wo, 'Tis the best the worst to know.

He hath followed—wo, for both, That the knight forgot his oath. Where the silvery fountains fall, Stands no more the charmed hall; But the dismal yew-trees droop, And the pines above them stoop, While the gloomy branches spread, As they would above the dead, In some church-yard large and drear Haunted with perpetual fear. Dark and still like some vast grave, Near there yawns a night-black cave. O'er its mouth wild ivy twines There the daylight never shines. Beast of prey or dragon's lair, Yet the knight hath entered there. Dimly doth the distant day Scatter an uncertain ray, While strange shapes and ghastly eyes Mid the spectral darkness rise. But he hurries on, and near He sees a sudden light appear, Wan and cold like that strange lamp Which amid the charnel's damp Shows but brightens not the gloom Of the corpse and of the tomb. With a cautious step he steals To the cave that light reveals.

'Tis such grotto as might be, Nereïd's home beneath the sea. Crested with the small bright stars Of a thousand rainbow spars. And a fountain from the side Pours beneath its crystal tide, In a white and marble bath Singing on its silvery path; While a meteor's emerald rays O'er the lucid water plays.— Close beside, with wild flowers laid, Is a couch of green moss made. There he sees his lady lie; Pain is in her languid eye, And amid her hair the dew Half obscures its golden hue; Damp and heavy, and unbound, Its wan clusters sweep around. On her small hand leans her head,— See the fevered cheek is red, And the fiery colour rushes To her brow in hectic blushes.— What strange vigil is she keeping! He can hear that she is weeping.— He will fling him at her feet, He will kiss away her tears. Ah, what doth his wild eyes meet, What below that form appears? Downwards from that slender waist, By a golden zone embraced, Do the many folds escape, Of the subtle serpent's shape.— Bright with many-coloured dyes All the glittering scales arise, With a red and purple glow Colouring the waves below! At the strange and fearful sight, Stands in mute despair the knight,— Soon to feel a worse despair, MetusinaMelusina [sic] sees him there! And to see him is to part With the idol of her heart,