Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/674

 658 CARRIE C. P E N N C K. [1850-eo. Long the seneschal hath slept, Since the maiden hath been wept, Caught a gleam of snowy vestments. Fluttering from the tuiTct's height. And the clanging drawbridge's fall, Rings no more through castle-hall ; And a voice of earnest prayer. Died, like music, on the air ; Stately knights and dames no more Tread the halls of Ellasmore ; And the old man soothly swore, 'Twas the voice of Leonore. — And the lonely turret-bell, When it tolled the fatal knell Idle tale at Ellasmore — Laughed the old man's words to scorn, Of Le'nore, the lost Le'nore, Deemed they 'twas some form of air. Woke its echoes nevermore ; Shunned the haunted castle turret. Strange to tell, Left the maiden to her prayer. The turret bell Last was she of that proud race, Tolled its own and Le'nore's knell. Destined soon to share a place, OncQ. from yonder battlements, Looking o'er the dim sea-shore. Out upon the Adriatic, Gazed the maiden Leonore ; By her haughty sires of yore. By the lords of Ellasmore, Sweetly sleeping where the Adige Murmurs to the dim sea-shore, And the troubled Adriatic Ever watching, ever praying. As she scanned the waters o'er, Chants the dirge of fair Le'nore. For the white sail, for the pennon. Watched the gray-haired seneschal, For the one that came no more ; And the band at Ellasmore — Northward, then, along the Adige, To the Tyrol's dusky height. Watched the maiden growing paler, Watched the fading flower, Le'nore. Gazed the maiden, till her beauty Till, at times, in sooth it seemed them And her brightness mocked the night. Not Le'nore, their blessed Le'nore, Came no white plume, came no horseman. But an angel sent to guide them. Came no sound of bugle-horn ; Watching, till the distant orient Upward, to the eternal shore. Bade approach of early morn ; Gone, one morning, was the maiden. Only sang the gentle Adige Sweetly to the murmuring sea ; Gone from castle and from tower; And the Adige knew not of her. Only sang the Alpine torrents Hoarsely to the verdant lea ; Nor her own most secret bower ; And for beauteous Leonore, Only rang the mastiif 's baying Sadly through the castle-hall; Was wailing loud at Ellasmore, And cheeks were blanched by sudden Only shrieked the dusky owlet From his loop-hole in the wall ; fears. And dark eyes shone through trembling Only moaned the dirge-like waters tears. On the Adriatic shore ; Still Le'nore, The lost Le'nore, Gazed for one that came no more. Could the Alpine torrents spoken, They could told of lost Le'nore, Kneeling on the stony turret. Gazing toward the dim sea-shore ; Once the gray-haired seneschal. And the stars, those silent watchers. Looking upward thi'ough the night, They could told of lost Le'nore,