Page:Records of Woman.pdf/259

Rh

Of soft green light, as by the glow-worm shed, Came pouring thro' the woven beech-boughs down, And steep'd the magic page wherein I read Of royal chivalry and old renown, A tale of Palestine. —Meanwhile the bee Swept past me with a tone of summer hours, A drowsy bugle, wafting thoughts of flowers, Blue skies and amber sunshine: brightly free, On filmy wings the purple dragon-fly Shot glancing like a fairy javelin by; And a sweet voice of sorrow told the dell Where sat the lone wood-pigeon: But ere long, All sense of these things faded, as the spell Breathing from that high gorgeous tale grew strong On my chain'd soul:—'twas not the leaves I heard— A Syrian wind the Lion-banner stirr’d,