LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 - - - is*W» 
 
 Shelf ..j£±- £~8 
 
 UNITED STAfTEf^OF AMERICA. 
 
EUPHRASIA, 
 
 AND 
 
 ALBERTA. 
 
 POETIC ROMANCES. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN AT THOMAS JONES, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 NOV 14 1884 /J 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIP PIN COT T & CO. 
 
 18 84. 
 
>^ 
 
 ^yu 
 
 Copyright, 1884, by John Ap Thomas Jones. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 " Euphrasia" and u Alberta/' published in 
 this volume, are poems of an entirely different 
 cast : although in no way dependent on each 
 other, they are here presented together as giving 
 a different phase of "heart history" common to 
 the world and the same in every age. 
 
 The first poem, "Euphrasia," received its sugges- 
 tion from a partial outline given in a short German 
 tradition. The suggestion, however, was enough ; 
 but while gathering material and arranging the 
 parts and personam for dramatic effect, the all- 
 important question arose as to the style and manner 
 most befitting the composition. After considerable 
 thought and some experimenting it was finally 
 decided, notwithstanding its great artistic difficulties, 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 to adopt the Spenserian stanza, as its stately step- 
 pings seemed best to accord with the martial spirit 
 of the piece. 
 
 With " Alberta/' however, the task seemed plain 
 sailing. The poem is but a poetic dream, written 
 in contrast with the above piece, requiring no his- 
 toric research, no arrangement of parts for startling 
 effect. It is simply the old story that never grows 
 old and never fails to please. Its refrain requires 
 no affected force. Its gentle sentiment, the author 
 believes, is best suited to an easy strain of poetic 
 measure and the mildest flow -of modest diction ; 
 and, according to his judgment, he has presented to 
 the reader each poem in a style best suited to the 
 purpose of its design. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ETJPHRASl A. 
 Canto I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Castle 9 
 
 The Mustering 22 
 
 The March 2G 
 
 The Halt 28 
 
 Canto II. 
 
 The Crusade 30 
 
 The Retreat 47 
 
 The Meeting 50 
 
 Canto III. 
 
 The Return 59 
 
 The Feud 62 
 
 The Reconciliation 70 
 
 The Sequel 78 
 
 5 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 ALBEETA. 
 Canto I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Heroine 95 
 
 Canto II. 
 
 The Return 103 
 
 Canto III. 
 
 The Troubadour 112 
 
 Canto IV. 
 
 The Conclusion 122 
 
 Xotes to Euphrasia . . . . . . .133 
 
EUPHRASIA. 
 
 IN THREE CANTOS. 
 
EUPHRASIA. 
 
 CANTO I 
 
 THE CASTLE, 
 i. 
 
 The spirit wild, Germanic, strangely grand, 
 
 Is oft revealed in weird traditions told — 
 
 The folk-lore legends — through the Fatherland, 
 
 Of goblin-cormorants, of dragons bold ; 
 
 But then again refreshing scenes unfold 
 
 Before the traveler as his steps advance 
 
 Toward some castle, with its tales of old 
 
 That will a sluggard or the quick entrance, 
 
 With deeds of daring knights, or beauty's bright 
 
 romance. 
 
 9 
 
10 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 II. 
 High o'er the Rhine, where swift its waters sweep, 
 There stand two castles wrapt in mists of time ; 
 Around their ruins the dark ravens sleep, 
 Or wake to croak o'er some old buried crime. 
 Of all their strength defiant, once sublime, 
 Alone the walls were able to survive 
 Those warring clouds that, storming, there com- 
 bine ; — 
 And where each hold teemed once a martial hive 
 Now naught but creeping plants of slow destruction 
 thrive. 
 
 in. 
 These " Brother Castles/' long so known to fame, 
 May ) 7 et be seen by every passer-by, — 
 Grim, standing monuments left to proclaim, 
 While their dull walls are outlined on the sky, 
 Destruction's doom for love's discarded sigh. 
 They warn how fate can recompense severe 
 The faithless wanton who shall train the tie 
 
THE CASTLE. \\ 
 
 Of love's sweet tendrils from a heart sincere, 
 Then leave that heart a wreck, to hope's neglected 
 tear. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The older castle, built in ages past, 
 Held by the mighty Lord of Liebenstein, 
 Was by him deemed a structure which should last 
 As long as flowed the waters of the Rhine, 
 And stand triumphant o'er the fell design 
 Of all w r ho dared assault the warlike place. 
 He ne'er supposed a craven would resign 
 His dome ancestral, or would e'er disgrace 
 The blood of glory's rank that warmed his fearless 
 race. 
 
 V. 
 And with the Knight dwelt in that fortress bold 
 Two sons, beside a ward supremely fair ; 
 Her form seemed cast in some celestial mould, 
 Like Jove's own Hebe, of majestic air. 
 
12 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Yet was this paragon unconscious there 
 How far above the maidens of the plain 
 She soared in all her rich perfections rare ; . 
 While those around well knew the task were 
 
 vain 
 To search for rival charms among earth's favored 
 
 train. 
 
 VI. 
 Her face resembled winter's virgin snow 
 . Touched by a blushing sunset on each cheek, 
 Such as we see when summer flowers blow 
 And warbling birds their heart-songs love to 
 
 speak, 
 And this fair maiden was in mood as meek 
 As her gazelle; yet long her lineage great 
 Had lived by war, — in arms would ever seek, 
 Where carnage raged, the post that tempted 
 fate, 
 And died as knights of fame, all honored of their 
 state. 
 
THE CASTLE. 13 
 
 VII. 
 Euphrasia, guileless, with these brothers dwelt 
 Beneath the roof of her brave father's friend, 
 Unmindful there how Cupid, blind, had dealt 
 A random shot, which sorrows did portend. 
 The shaft was splintered which a god should send 
 To one alone, and both received a part 
 Of that which men or reason cannot blend ; 
 Yet both concealed their pangs with equal art 
 Until their father read the secret of each heart. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Nor had the Count in frosty age forgot 
 
 The wild love-passions of his youthful breast, 
 
 But, like a soldier, tried this Gordian knot 
 
 To sever, with a father's kind request, 
 
 That fair Euphrasia would the one make blest 
 
 Whom most she loved, — for both her soul 
 
 adored, — 
 And let the other's dream forever rest 
 
14 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Deep in his heart ; — like holy relics stored 
 Of saints in hallowed shrines, held sacred to their 
 Lord. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But, oh ! this truth, when to the maiden told, 
 Unnerved, — her heart's blood backward seemed 
 
 to flow, — 
 Back through her veins in stifling currents cold ; 
 And from her cheek was blanched the crimson 
 
 glow, 
 And hope seemed darkened, — every hope below. 
 For both the brothers had she loved sincere, 
 Nor could she feel a free hand to bestow 
 On either, while the other held for her, 
 Deep smouldering in his heart, a hopeless passion 
 
 dear. 
 
 x. 
 
 Then Baldwin rose — he was the elder son — 
 Above the fierce contentions of his mind, 
 
THE CASTLE. ' 15 
 
 (Long had he seen her fancy for the one 
 Whom most she loved in trifles, undesigned,) 
 And urged on her, with feelings most refined, 
 That she should give, without reserve, her hand 
 And heart to him, his brother, and should bind 
 Their vows before the altar in the band 
 Of wedlock's hallow'd bliss, blest bv the Lord's com- 
 maud. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And then to horse ! To horse he sprang and fled 
 
 Away from love! away from every claim ! 
 
 Away ! as one among the living, dead ; 
 
 A homeless exile innocent of shame ! 
 
 To quench within love's ever-glowing flame, 
 
 He sought the brave Count Palatine's proud 
 
 court, 
 Where errant-knights, athirst for valor's fame 
 In war or tournament, — in strife or sport, — 
 Made, in their might of arms, that place a famed 
 
 resort. 
 
16 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 XII. 
 But vain, — all vanity ! No flight can find 
 Peace for a heart with sorrow's care oppressed. 
 Time, prayer, and faith alone can give the mind 
 Peace, resignation, and a tranquil rest. 
 Peace gave they him, — peace ! — and the knight 
 
 was blest. 
 E'en though he felt nigh every hope was shorn, 
 Yet sent back comfort to a home distress'd, 
 Beseeching they should not his absence mourn, 
 And by his manly will hid disappointment's thorn. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But, oh! what bliss when love — supernal love! — 
 Dwells by the hearth ! Then will home's flame 
 
 arise 
 Like holy incense, as it sends above 
 Its clouds of hallow'd perfume to the skies. 
 A stranger was the castle to all sighs, 
 
THE CASTLE. 17 
 
 Save those which hearts in blissful moments heave; 
 For none there thought Desertion, in disguise, 
 Would wear Hope's mantle or the soul deceive, 
 To leave sweet Love in gloom, without one blest 
 reprieve. 
 
 xiv. 
 'Twas then the knight, a goodly father, thought, 
 While youth was dreaming in life's airy bower, 
 The fleeting moments should in time be caught 
 And twined to meet the wants of every hour. 
 And so he planned, near his own stately tower, 
 To build a castle for the loving pair, — 
 A " brother castle," so with equal power 
 His sons could safely challenge all who dare 
 To siege their frowning walls of massive grandeur 
 rare. 
 
 xv. 
 
 He fixed its firm foundation fast in rocks 
 
 Whose hoary heads were reared at nature's birth, 
 2 
 
18 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Above the hills, to view those surging shocks 
 Which shook the centre of the seething earth. 
 But ere these massive walls of royal worth 
 Had raised a spear-length o'er the tufts of green, 
 Sad disappointment, like a wasting dearth, 
 Cast its despairing shadows dark between 
 Love's hopeful prospect then, and doubtful years 
 unseen. 
 
 XVI. 
 The land, the air, the world seemed filled with 
 
 war! 
 Saint Bernard's silvery tongue, aflame, had spread 1 
 A martial glow o'er every Christian shore, 
 Arousing all as from a sluggard's bed. 
 " The Holy Land !" where once the Saviour bled, 
 Became the war-cry of a surging line 
 That tore away from every tie, and fled 
 Off to the rescue of that sacred shrine 
 Which marks the place where slept our Ransom- 
 price divine. 
 
THE CASTLE. 19 
 
 XVII. 
 The young knight caught the fervor and proclaimed 
 " The Cross ! the Cross !" and, let what would 
 
 betide, 2 
 He vowed, upon that sacred emblem named, 
 No more would he within his home abide ; 
 Nor would he wed his matchless plighted bride 
 Until he reaped the talismanic prize 
 Of glory, won on fields with carnage dyed : 
 Prize of the valiant, blest in angels' eyes. 
 Price of the brave redeemed, his passport to the 
 skies. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 But Liebenstein's objections were severe ; 
 
 Yet to them all the son gave little heed, — 
 
 Nor love parental, nor affection's tear, 
 
 Could move his purpose or his course impede. 
 
 He saw alone the Holy Land in need, 
 
 And marshalled from his father's troops of war 
 
 His own retainers ; and with instant speed 
 
20 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Marched where the waiting Emp'ror Conrad bore 
 His royal gonfalon, recruiting for that shore. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then anguish came ! — with sorrow, grief, and 
 
 years 
 The Count was seen descending to the grave, 
 While poor Euphrasia's burning, bitter tears 
 Would his pale brow like precious ointment 
 
 lave. 
 Then kindly Baldwin, generous as brave, 
 Returned, to take the father's last command ; 
 And far excelled the wish his parent gave, 
 For to the absent, with an even hand, 
 He shared his castles, wealth, and all his feudal 
 
 land. 
 
 xx. 
 
 This brother finished, as the sire designed, 
 That castle for the wayward one away ; 
 
THE CASTLE. 21 
 
 It e'en surpassed the father's glowing mind 
 In martial majesty, in rich array. 
 Then long they waited, with increased delay, 
 The youth's return, or for some word of cheer 
 To give the cause of his extended stay ; 
 For rumors dark, of dread reverse, with fear 
 Had filled their anxious minds for him they held so 
 dear. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 But Time's awaited car rolls slowly round, — 
 Rolled slow, — as if some heavy news it bore 
 Of one beloved, perhaps beneath the ground, 
 Or held in slavery on a foreign shore. 
 And poor Euphrasia found no comfort more, 
 Save in her tears, which gave her heart relief; 
 "While she, pale child, drooped o'er her sorrows 
 
 sore, 
 As droops the lily, in that moment brief, 
 When Death's cold, withering touch is blighting 
 every leaf. 
 
22 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 XXII. 
 But while these scenes were passing in that home 
 This young crusader in his zeal had left, 
 We'll follow where his saintly steps may roam, 
 And watch him leaning on the gilded heft 
 Of his good sword, — in solitude, — bereft 
 Of friends and home, and see how time can 
 
 wear, — 
 Or worse than wear, — be guilty of the theft 
 Of cherished buds implanted by the fair 
 Young hand of hopeful love, with fond affection's 
 
 care. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 He marshalled, as I said, from out the band 
 Of his bold sire as brave a veteran corps 
 As ever fought, while their loved Fatherland 
 Passed through the throes of an intestine war. 
 Trained in that strife, his gallant troop before 
 The Ernp'ror's eye he led with unfeigned pride ; 
 For none at Ratisbon, on Danube's shore, 3 
 
THE MUSTERING. 23 
 
 All gathered in from countries scattered wide, 
 Could at that rendezvous with them in might have 
 vied. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The knight himself, in majesty of man, 
 
 There peerless stood, in stature, form, and 
 
 grace, 
 Before the Emp'ror, who was quick to scan 
 The open frankness of his warlike face. 
 He gave the youth a high imperial place 
 Among the chosen, of his valiant band, 
 Selected with precaution from that race 
 Of bold intrepid leaders of the land ; — 
 Men fashioned by the hand of nature to command. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 His comrades of his manhood made parade 
 In all the pomp of their chivalric time; 
 
24 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 They called him " Egbert/' or the Shining Blade, 
 
 In token of his bearing so sublime. 
 
 And so, as Egbert, through each changing 
 
 clime, 
 And war and revelry, we'll know him more ; 
 And many a mountain danger did he climb, 
 And many a wild temptation met him sore, 
 As boldly on he pressed a pilgrim of the war. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Young Egbert, thus exalted high in state, 
 Saw, as he cast his searching eye around, 
 A surging horde, — the sacrifice of fate, — 
 A countless multitude spread o'er the ground. 
 And in this swarm were all conditions found 
 Of saints and sinners, — and the feeble cry 
 Of helpless innocence would oft resound; 4 
 Brought in to wander, and in wastes to die, 
 By those who sought to do the will of him on 
 high. 
 
THE MUSTERING. 25 
 
 XXVII. 
 For in that human avalanche the call 
 Brought knight and nobles, serfs, — and women 
 
 came 
 From huts of bondmen and the royal hall, 
 Armed for a service in the Saviour's name, — 
 Armed like the Amazons of fable fame. 5 
 But many came beneath the blight, the spell 
 Of Satan's spirit, dyed in deeds of shame, 
 Their footsteps leading where the fallen dwell, 
 To depths of darkness deep, — a never-dying hell. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 In God's great name, each pestilence of earth 
 Seemed festering in that pool of seething sin; 
 All deeming at the shrine of sacred birth 
 They would exemption from perdition win. 
 But, like the leopard with his mottled skin, 
 They bore their stains through every realm and 
 
 clime, 
 And conscience smothered in that warlike din 
 
26 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Held high carousal with those deeds of crime, 
 Whose damning shades have cursed the course of 
 mortal time. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And when these legions southward took their 
 
 way 
 Toward those countries where the sun aglow 
 Shines all resplendent through the rolling day, 
 Amazed were they to see the pastures grow. 
 But, like the scene by Jordan's sacred flow 
 Where Lot beheld the cities of the plain, 
 Those Southern towns proved Sodoms steeped in 
 
 woe; 
 Their gilded pomp, their luxuries so vain, 
 Increased the blight of death throughout the North- 
 ern train. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Amid such scenes young Egbert, from his home, 
 Fell like the youths Fve met in cities great, 
 
THE MARCH. 27 
 
 Who left, all innocent, their rural dome 
 
 To seek fair Fortune on the tide of fate, 
 
 And who have seemed, in their weak strength. 
 
 elate, 
 Believing they could safely tread the floor 
 Where Satan holds high carnival in state ; 
 But, like the moths I've seen in circles soar 
 Around a tempting flame, they fell to rise no more. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Lost to the world of modesty and worth ! 
 Lost to their kindred in the shades of shame ! 
 Lost to all motives noble on this earth ! 
 The buried hopes of many an honored name. 
 But what is fortune, honor, pride, or fame, 
 Or all the glories written on the scroll 
 Of glowing dreams, lit by ambition's flame, 
 Compared to one poor, priceless, trembling soul, 
 Whose ruined name is struck from God's immortal 
 roll ? 
 
28 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 XXXII. 
 But Egbert's pride still pointed him aright, 
 And taste did much ; he felt, as days arose, 
 The thrilling grandeur of those pageants bright, 
 Where old, majestic temples would impose 
 Their stately splendor and the past disclose, 
 Until at last his 'raptured eyes surveyed 
 The domes of Constantinople, at the close 
 Of evening, as the setting sun displayed 
 A sheen, as though with gold the city was o'erlaid. 6 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The people's shout arose with one accord 
 As they beheld that home of august power, 
 Where Constantine, the great imperial lord, 
 Once ruled the world, in Rome's triumphant hour. 
 The city's walls, with many a massive tower, 7 
 Frowned o'er the horde of strangers at their base ; 
 They seemed, indeed, with stern contempt to 
 lower 
 
THE HALT. 29 
 
 On those who came of such ignoble race, 
 As could but from the North their frozen lineage 
 trace. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But strength, undaunted, was in every arm 
 Of Conrad's army, from the frozen strand ; 
 While all the Orient trembled in alarm 
 To see that multitude o'erspread their land. 
 Then came the Emp'ror, Grecian, and his band, 
 In pompous pride, with conscience dead, or seared ; 
 He gave in treachery a monarch's hand ; 
 He pledged alliance on a royal word, 
 While planning dark and deep the doom of those he 
 feared. 8 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 But while the host, lulled by deception's smile, 
 Remained inactive, Egbert, with amaze, 
 Would wander o'er the city to beguile 
 His idle hours, — for all its winding ways 
 
30 EUPHRASIA, 
 
 Were filled with art. 'Twas ere destruction's blaze. 9 
 He saw the relics of religions past. 
 The dreams of Rome in her resplendent days ; 
 Gods made by men, in bronze, superbly cast : 
 All works of skill sublime, which mortals deemed 
 would last. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 The contrast with his mountain home was great, — 
 There, lofty pines great craggy heights waved o'er, 
 Like nature's plumage o'er her thrones of state, 
 Where men were nurtured in the arms of war. 
 But these seducing scenes, ne'er seen before, 
 Contaminated deep his spirit free; 
 He loved not home, as once he loved of yore, 
 But lingered long whence honor bid him flee, 
 As reckless Samson did at frail Delilah's knee. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 He saw great Juno, Jove's imperial queen, 10 
 Cast in proportions of colossal size ; 
 
THE HALT. 31 
 
 Her lofty tresses from the earth as seen 
 Appeared as reaching to the vaulted skies ; 
 While o'er the scene she cast her haughty eyes 
 With look disclosing jealousy and pride. 
 This struck Knight Egbert with amazed sur- 
 prise ; 
 Nor could he in his wonderment decide 
 Why art should fill with rage the God of Thunder's 
 bride. 
 
 xxxvnr. 
 He saw that figure of transcendent might, 
 That seated Hercules, of giant span, 11 
 Who, head upon his palm, seemed seeking light 
 In meditation, like a thoughtful man. 
 That brawny statue, ponderous to -ran. 
 The Knight long viewed, — and of a people there 
 He wondered how their handicraft could plan 
 Those sinewy muscles with Bach knowing care, 
 While of their strength, themselves, they seemed all 
 unaware. 
 
32 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Yet, from those forms the Knight would turn away 
 To view the lesser beauties of the place ; 
 An ob'lisk one, — where in sublime array 
 He saw how art had left its cultured trace 12 
 In fruits and flowers; and of a wondrous grace 
 Were bathing nymphs, while o'er the blooming 
 
 land 
 Danced playful Cupids, who, in mirthful chase, 
 Were pelting roses at each other's band, — 
 All beauty unexcelled by work of mortal hand. 
 
 XL. 
 
 There first he heard the echo of that tale 
 Of ancient Troy, by Homer grandly told. 
 There Helen stood, whose fault made Ilium wail, 13 
 The choicest piece of man's creative mould, 
 Her grace enchanting, e'en in statue cold, 
 Chilled much the charm of fair Euphrasia's form; 
 While misty shadows o'er her mem'ry rolled 
 
THE HALT. 33 
 
 Unfair to love, which his own heart kept warm 
 Against those clouds of home that threatened once 
 a storm. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Of art, Rome gathered almost every gem, 
 
 For ages from her broad, imperial state, 
 
 To deck this city, as a diadem, — 
 
 Their queen of cities, in her splendor great. 
 
 But they, as all things mortal, shared the fate 
 
 Of Time's dread touch, — those gems are seen no 
 
 more ; 
 They perished when rude men in mortal hate 
 Came with the torch, in fierce, relentless war; 14 
 Destroying what earth's skill can never more restore. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 And sad temptation, — oh ! I've seen the blue 
 
 Turn like a brassy firmament on high, 
 
 When brazen suns have burnt that azure hue 
 
 Of liquid beauty from the vernal sky. 
 3 
 
34 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 And thus will love, born of an honest sigh, 
 If ever man shall linger 'round the vile. 
 Love spreads his wings when evils gather nigh, 
 And oft would Egbert turn from art awhile, 
 To view the flaunting blaze of follies that defile. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 And then, the soft, luxurious Grecian homes, 
 In grand effeminate profusion, lured 
 His mind from memories of those churlish domes 
 Where men to barren hardships were enured. 
 And for himself, he longed to have secured 
 A home resplendent in its pride and power ; 
 And there resolved w r hat might be there procured 
 He'd bear in triumph to his sombre tower, 
 And train its rugged walks like Fancy's blooming 
 bower. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 But from those reveries the Knight awoke, 
 When wild the clarions rang their fierce alarms 
 
THE HALT. 35 
 
 Throughout the camp, as dawn of morning broke, 
 Commanding preparation, — quick ! to arms ! 
 In arms to seek that land of hallow'd charms ! 
 Once more the Knight was Mars' ambitious child ! 
 Once more he longed to face the battle's storms ! 
 And leave the scene where aimless Folly smiled 
 For fields where glories thrive amid war's carnage 
 wild. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 The din, the hum, the mad excitement gave 
 A scene tumultuous, when the busy throng 
 Of camp retainers and the warriors brave 
 Joined with the troubadours, whose gallant song 
 Aroused the camp with echoes loud and long, 
 Commingling with the clang and clank around 
 Of busy smiths repairing armors strong, 
 And heralds' shouts, which did with force resound, 
 As they their orders gave through all that teeming 
 ground. 
 
OA^TO II. 
 THE CRUSADE. 
 
 i. 
 War, Pestilence, and Famine, in degree, 
 Have long been rival scourges of mankind. 
 The first terrific, but sublime to see, 
 Comes in his pomp, to leave a wreck behind. 
 His war- hoofs plough the harvests of the hind ; 
 The flames that from his charger's nostrils flow 
 Breathe out destruction on the troubled wind, 
 Until the land invaded, all aglow, 
 Sinks from its lurid blaze to horror, want, and woe. 
 
 II. 
 
 But Pestilence, unnoticed, sweeps its path 
 
 When great Jehovah in His angry might 
 36 
 
THE CRUSADE. 37 
 
 Pours on the air the vials of His wrath, 
 To blot offending nations from His sight. 
 Then Death appalling, as the last dark night, 
 Mows his dread swath throughout the stricken 
 
 plain ; 
 Where men and maidens, and e'en infants slight, 
 Alike all helpless, writhing in their pain, 
 Yield loathsome to the earth their plague-rent forms 
 
 again. 
 
 ill. 
 The worst: — behold! — see Famine with her 
 
 train- ! 
 Her grinning fangs crunch with a tiger's zest 
 The fleshless bones of her own child's remains, 
 Torn, in her frenzy, from her milkless breast. 
 Her sunken eves glow with a gleam unblest 
 Through every home, by horrid hunger riven, 
 Until the Lord-of-Mercy's kind behest 
 Comes on the winds, to dews reviving given, 
 To fill the earth, accursed, with bounties blest of 
 
 heaven. 
 
38 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 TV. 
 To meet these ills great Conrad's mighty host 
 Left their carousals, idleness, and shame ; 
 Believing all could reach the sacred coast 
 Through valleys fair and forests filled with 
 
 game. 
 But be it told, in infamy's vile name, 
 The Grecian Emp'ror's jealousy delayed 
 Those Northern legions till upon their fame 
 He made alliance with the Turks and played 
 A traitor's dastard part, and every trust betrayed. 
 
 V. 
 
 False guides he gave as pilots through his 
 
 realm ; 
 False friends deceived the Northmen on their 
 
 way ; 
 For every craft was used to overwhelm 
 The soldier and the pilgrim with dismay. 
 Their rear and flank became the constant prey 
 
THE CRUSADE. 39 
 
 Of plundering leagues, who sought but to enslave 
 Such youths and maidens who might thoughtless 
 
 stray, 
 Or rob and murder the unwary brave, 
 And leave his mangled form without a Christian 
 
 grave. 
 
 VI. 
 Blind was the zeal which led this Crusade band, 
 Like Israel's host, to brave an unknown waste ; 
 Heedless they turned toward the promise-land. 
 Like those from Egypt, so these sped in haste, 
 But found at last their confidence misplaced. 
 No Moses rose their courage to inspire; 
 Their moral hope at last became abased ; 
 No cloud to guide, naught but consuming fire 
 Seemed hovering o'er their path of dangers deep 
 and dire. 
 
 VII 
 Along their trail they saw their helpless die ; 
 Their victims left they to the vulture's care. 
 
40 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 " Onward !" for safety, was the awful cry ; 
 u Onward !" re-echoed to their wild despair. 
 No love of country, or of kindred there, 
 Could for a moment stay that howling dread, 
 Where mothers left their helpless infants fair, 
 And onward with the army, onward fled ! 
 Away, away from scenes where Horror claimed the 
 dead ! 
 
 VIII. 
 Lord of the righteous ! those who call Thy 
 
 name 
 With tongues polluted, and with sable hearts, 
 Thou ne'er wilt hear ; for sacrilege and shame 
 Are but the points of Satan's venomed darts. 
 The Holy Spirit His blest boon imparts 
 Alone to those who come in love to Thee, 
 Alone to man who from pollution starts, 
 And for a refuge to Thy cross shall flee, — 
 Not with a carnal sword, but in humility. 
 
THE CRUSADE. 41 
 
 IX. 
 A broken heart, all contrite, humbly brought 
 And laid a willing tribute on Thy shrine, 
 Thou wilt accept, Lord, for the price that bought 
 Frail man's redemption is Thy blood divine. 
 Xot all the swords of every martial line 
 That ever gleamed could save a fleeting soul, 
 When leaving earth's cold frame, like this of mine, 
 And lead it onward to Thy sacred goal, 
 O'er death's dark chilling stream. 'Tis Jesus makes 
 us whole. 
 
 x. 
 
 But as the masses, hopeless, onward sped, 
 Young Egbert nobly did his daring part; 
 For soon he taught their enemies to dread 
 His legions, who like spirits seemed to start 
 Out from the ground, or like a fleeting dart 
 Would come when least they deemed his presence 
 
 near, 
 To stay their carnage, and again depart, 
 
42 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 To fill some other scene alike with fear, 
 Or with his voice to give the faltering throng a 
 cheer. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Rich was Death's harvest on that fatal land. 
 There grim Despair was seen in every face ; 
 There gaunt Starvation reached her scrawny hand ; 
 There Want and Misery filled every place. 
 Hope scarcely gave the best a dream of grace 
 With which to bid their drooping spirits rise, 
 When they beheld the Taurus Mountains trace 
 Their lofty summits on the distant skies, 
 Where Treachery had planned its heartless sacri- 
 fice. 1 
 
 XII. 
 
 Far in those mountain gorges wild was led 
 That horde, by guides on whom they all relied ; 
 Where steeps below, and dizzy heights overhead, 
 Appalling, chilled the reckless in their pride. 
 
THE CRUSADE. 43 
 
 Within a deep ravine, at last, each guide 
 Fled from his post, and left the host betrayed 
 Between high cliffs, where rocks were scattered 
 
 wide, 
 When all the Christians, at a shout, dismayed, 
 Beheld the place alive with Turks in arms ar- 
 rayed. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 On every height the enemy arose, 
 
 With turbans crowned, and scimetars in hand ; 
 
 Each cliff, and cleft, seemed but the hive of foes 
 
 Created by some subtle wizard's wand. 
 
 Their loud drums echoed from each mountain 
 
 band, 
 While all for battle quickly did deploy 
 Around the defiles of that riven land, 
 Where they could best the startled horde 
 annoy, 
 Or find the fittest place the warlike to destroy. 
 
44 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 XIV. 
 Down would they swoop, as eagles on their prey, 
 Destroying like the locust in their flight, 
 Or bearing off some trophy, flit away 
 Among the shades, as fades the dream of night ; 
 Then dashing fiercely with their weapons bright 
 On rear and van, confusion's terror spread 
 Among the host, who, helpless in their fright, 
 Rushed frenzied o'er their dying and their dead, 
 To crowd o'er toppling steeps, where mangled thou- 
 sands bled. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Anon the Turks would form, and bravely face 
 The Knights who strove to rally in the fray. 
 The spear, the sword, the scimetar, the mace 
 Worked Death's dread pleasure on that fatal day. 
 From crags above were quickly torn away 
 Great massive rocks, which crushed the ranks 
 
 below 
 Like writhing insects, spreading dark dismay, 
 
THE CRUSADE. 45 
 
 Until the mountain-stream's bright crystal flow 
 Went driving, dashing on, mad with its crimson 
 glow. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 From scenes like these the Pilgrim army fought 
 Back through Death's portals for the open land. 
 But scarce! v had that boon — so dearlv bought — 
 Been gained, when all at bay were brought to 
 
 stand. 
 There Conrad saw around, on every hand, 
 A turban-sea that, surging, seemed to sway 
 As sway the billows when the wild winds grand 
 Lash the deep ocean to a seething spray, 
 Which onward, on amain, tears every check away ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Around the Emp'ror, with a horrid yell, 
 
 The rage of battle gathered in its might. 
 
 In his defence the great, the mighty fell, — 
 
 Fell like the leaves in autumn's withering blight ! 
 
46 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 There Otto, bold, — the-iron-arm-in-fight, — 
 Gave up the ghost; there, numbered with the 
 
 slain, 
 Was Brandenburgh/s brave Landgrave, young 
 
 and bright, 
 And old Duke Sembach, of his prowess vain, 
 Was stricken to the earth. He never rose again. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Almost alone the wounded Conrad stood 
 
 Contending, like a lion in that fray, 
 
 Against the onset of the turban-flood, 
 
 Which seemed beneath his sword to melt away, 2 
 
 Or backward roll, in all their fierce array, 
 
 As waves from rocks that check their mad 
 
 career, 
 To gather, by a moment's short delay, 
 The scattered strength of every sword and 
 spear, 
 To gain a prize all knew was one without a peer. 
 
THE RETREAT. 47 
 
 XIX. 
 
 All seemed as lost, when Egbert with his band 
 Charged to the rescue with resistless power ; 
 His dripping battle-axe and crimson hand, 
 In heaving, marked his presence through that 
 
 hour. 
 His men around the Emp'ror as a tower 
 Closed in their strength, and turned the fatal 
 
 tide 
 Back on the Turks, who seemed in fright to 
 
 cower, 
 As they beheld, like Mars, dread Egbert ride, 
 Begored with Islam-brains, safe to his master's 
 
 side. 
 
 xx. 
 
 For him the Christians shouted to a man, — 
 There, all acclaimed him leader, and obeyed 
 The youthful Knight, as their retreat began, 
 Beneath the watch-word of "The Shining Blade !" 
 
48 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Around him rallied all yet undismayed, 
 
 In martial force, with one wild bitter cry ; 
 
 For " vengeance deep !" — " for Christian hopes 
 
 betrayed !" 
 u Back to the Bosphorus, as the eagles fly ! 
 Let Constantinople blaze ! Let every traitor die !" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Scourged was their route, back through that coun- 
 try wide, 
 Where grinning skulls and scattered bones around 
 Lay bleaching white, and marked on every side 
 The gorgon horrors of the outward bound. 
 Revenge was rife ; revenge ! the only sound — 
 Save groans, and falling timbers, and the flame 
 That swept the domes, while murder drenched the 
 
 ground, 
 To purge the blemish from that Northern name, 
 And plant in terrors deep the standards of its 
 fame. 
 
THE RETREAT. 49 
 
 XXII. 
 Soon back to Constantinople, on the breeze, 
 Came sounds of soldiers, frenzied by their woe, 
 Despoiling towns ; their vengeance to appease, 
 And causing blood like mountain-streams to flow. 
 The Crecian Caesar trembled at the foe 
 His heartless infamy had driven wild ; 
 And sent relief, with ostentatious show, 
 And pleas of love in flattering language mild, 
 To stay the rancor deep of those he so beguiled. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Rich were the viands, and luscious, that along 
 His satraps bore, to meet the raving horde. 
 'Twas milk and honey for the reckless throng, — 
 'Twas wine and treasure for each ruling lord ; 
 For from the riches in his coffers stored 
 The faithless Emp'ror deemed it wiser far 
 With words, and bribes, to stay each leader's 
 sword, 
 
50 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Than stir in strife a fierce insatiate war, 
 And bring beneath his walls the hurly-burly's roar. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Obsequious messages for Conrad's ear 
 He sent, with all a monarch's high esteem, — 
 An anxious waiting for their drawing near, 
 To meet his Majesty in love extreme ; 
 Yet all the while his envoys seemed to deem 
 It wise to study Egbert's weaker side, 
 Until they found he revelled in the dream 
 Of wealth and beauty, let what would betide, 
 Then homeward sped in haste, to pander every 
 pride. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 To charm the terror, then their Emp'ror came, 
 With all the pageant pomp can give to show ; 
 His golden chariot, like a thing of flame, 
 Shone as a flashing sunbeam moving slow : 
 Its velvet canopy was all aglow 
 
THE MEETING. 51 
 
 With gold and pearls, all worked in rare design ; 
 Which over-shadowed a rich throne below, 
 Begemmed as bright as Buddha's sacred shrine, 
 On which the monarch rode, a seeming thing divine. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 His coursers, stately as Achilles' team, 
 
 Were led by grooms in opulent array. 
 
 Ten Arab steeds, the tint of mellow cream, 
 
 In blue and gold, their plum'd heads tossed in 
 
 play. 
 A legion courtiers, ready to obey 
 The royal nod, were riding on each hand ; 
 All chosen for their youth and bearing gay 
 From the elite, and formed a worthless band 
 Of sycophants, to do their master's vile command. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Behind his chariot, of the royal throne, 
 The Empress came, amid her beauties rare. 
 
52 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Her car was fashioned as a shell, and shone 
 With pearl and gold, all overlaid with care 
 Her horses white, without a sable hair, 
 Went prancing gayly, as they onward drew 
 Their burden, bright as creatures of the air, 
 Or nymphs from Queen Titania's chosen few, 
 Fresh with their faces bathed in morning's rosy dew. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 On India wrought, embroidered silk reclined 
 Those matchless, clad, like woven winds so 
 
 light, 
 In robes of gossamer, with grace entwined 
 Around their forms, enchanting to the sight : 
 And music flushed, with love's inspiring flight, 
 From flutes and harps, and hautboys in the van, 
 Rose, rolling o'er that fairy bevy bright 
 In tones euphonious, — all a siren plan 
 Of wrong's consummate art to win the rising 
 man. 
 
THE MEETING. 53 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The monarchs met. 'Twas on a chosen spot, — 
 A field prepared with tents of home-like joy, 
 Where sparkling streams flowed from a crystal 
 
 grot; 
 Where all the soldiers might their time employ 
 In revels wild, or pleasures, to decoy 
 The vengeful from their dreams of sorrows past, 
 And warp them from their purpose to destroy ; 
 Or blight their valor, like sirocco's blast ; 
 Or perish as waste wrecks from stormy billows cast. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The crafty Emperor on bold Conrad's brow 
 A crown of laurels, like a craven, placed ; 
 With friendship's pledge, sealed by a royal vow, 
 Reviving promises he once disgraced. 
 But they from Egbert's mind were not effaced ; 
 In stern contempt he held the Grecian word ; 
 And in his haughty look disdain was traced 
 
54 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 By all who watched him clutch his trusty sword, 
 As he, in honor, stood beside his regal lord. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 But as the Empress, all dissembling, knelt, 
 To place a kiss upon rough Conrad's hand, 
 And praise his worth, in hollow sounds, unfelt, 
 There stepped a Peri from the royal band, — 
 The chosen one, the Venus of the land, — 
 And o'er the shoulders of young Egbert hung 
 A myrtle-wreath with her soft dimpled hand ; 
 Then pressed a sweet rose to her lips and flung 
 Love's challenge at his feet, expressing more than 
 tongue : 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 And as he turned he caught the fatal gaze 
 Of beauty gleaming on his manhood's prime; 
 Her dusky eyes flashed with electric rays, 
 Bespeaking conquest, heedless e'en of crime. 
 
THE MEETING. 55 
 
 The olive-tint of her soft Southern clime 
 Bewitched his fancy, and his reason fled ; 
 And. yielding conquest, from that moment's time 
 Forgot the wrongs by which his people bled, 
 And all the martyred braves his daring valor led. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The subtle Etnp'ror <>n this fatal flame 
 Rich treasures freely from his cutlers poured, 
 To buy or win young Egbert as he came 
 To worship her his passions fierce adored. 
 And she, the Beauty, deemed he was the lord 
 ( )t love Bupreme within her heaving breast, 
 And knew it not 'twas what true love abhorred, — 
 I [er <»wn lioentious pa— ion- in uni 
 Such as may prove a curse, while love refines the 
 blest 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But why shall we still linger round the place 
 Of Egbert's perjury, his final tall; 
 
56 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Where he forswore Euphrasia, in disgrace, 
 Amid surroundings ready to recall 
 Those scenes of horror which did once appall 
 His own stout heart, and made him vengeance 
 
 swear 
 Against the Greeks ? But he forgot them all, — 
 Yes, e'en forgot his sweet Euphrasia fair, 
 And left for wanton sighs affection in despair. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Ah, Passion, thou art but a luring flame, 
 A blighting blast, an all-consuming fire, 
 A wanton playing with love's sacred name, 
 A yearning purity can ne'er admire, 
 A dream of wrong that never seems to tire, 
 A curse that dwarfs the honor of our race, 
 A cloud that dims the star of hope's desire, 
 That shuts the portals of Almighty grace 
 Against the lone and old, left friendless in dis- 
 grace. 
 
THE MEETING. 57 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 But Love, — sweet Love ! — thou didst, when first 
 
 our race 
 Was by God's hand implanted on this sphere, 
 Flow from Jehovah like a' beam of grace, 
 A thrilling stream of rapture's bliss sincere. 
 Love wins the maiden innocently dear; 
 Love wakes the mother at her infant's erv ; 
 Love cheers through childhood every shadowy 
 
 fear ; 
 Love guides the step when age has dimmed the 
 
 eye, 
 And love is that calm breast on which all hope to 
 
 die 
 
 xxxvir. 
 Then why will man that blesded boon destroy? 
 Why turn to gall the honey of the heart? 
 Why make the hope of life an idle toy, 
 And then in ruthless selfishness depart? 
 
58 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Ah ! know ye not that God the venomed dart 
 Will turn, in retribution just again, 
 On those who use deception's subtle art 
 To win affection, and repay with pain 
 The poor entangled dove, bound in love's broken 
 chain. 
 
CAXTO III. 
 THE RETURN. 
 
 i. 
 We left Euphrasia weeping in dismay. 
 Within old Lieben-tein'- embattled wall, 
 O'er Egbert's silence while so far away, 
 When tidings came of Conrad's fatal fall. 
 Each coming fugitive would fain recall 
 Those scenes impressed by terror on his mind, 
 Engulfing in his fancy, great and small, 
 The Crusade host beset by foes combined, 
 From which all claimed escape was closed to those 
 behind. 
 
 II. 
 But soon from southward, like the breath of spring, 
 
 The rumors brightened as they northward came 
 
 59 
 
60 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 With news of battles, and again would bring 
 The glorious tidings of young Egbert's fame. 
 And long she waited without thought of blame, 
 Though long he tarried when the strife was o'er ; 
 Nor deemed she dark dishonor e'er could claim 
 Her hope's ideal, glorified by war, 
 And judged his by the heart her own fond bosom 
 bore. 
 
 III. 
 And often would Euphrasia seek her bower, 
 And in love's revery weave garlands gay 
 To crown her hero in his coming hour, 
 Then sigh to see her drooping flowers decay. 
 But still he lingered, still time rolled away, 
 Slow as the watches when the fevered head 
 Turns in its pain, through all the night's delay 
 Believing, hoping — in affliction dread — 
 That morning's coming dawn must surely comfort 
 shed. 
 
THE RETURN. 61 
 
 IV. 
 But, ah ! at last a herald at the gate 
 Wound loud his horn to gain admittance there, 
 And there announced the coming of the great 
 Duke Egbert's bride, the matchless Grecian fair; 
 And told how both were late the honored care 
 Of Venice great, while round on every side 
 Ovations met in pomp the noble pair, 
 A nd how the castles, vying, opened wide 
 Their rival doors of fame to greet the brilliant bride. 
 
 v. 
 
 Poor stricken soul ! Euphrasia in that hour 
 Stood like the pine when from a tranquil sky 
 The lightning came, with all its blighting power, 
 And left the tree a shattered shaft to die, — 
 There like a statue. Tearless was her eye; 
 She stood as one transfixed upon the spot ; 
 
 4 Her livid lips gave not a single sigh ; 
 The w r orld before her seemed a sable blot, 
 
 And all a mystery deep appeared her fated lot. 
 
o2 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 VI. 
 But in the noble breast of him who stood 
 Beside the maiden in her hour of pain. 
 There beat a heart which felt alone that blood 
 aid from his house efface dishonors stain ; 
 That he and Egbert ne'er could meet again, 
 Except in combat for Euphrasia's slight. 
 And Baldwin hung his challenge to remain 
 In Egbert's hall, — the gauntlet of a Knight, 
 Who stood Euphrasia's friend. The champion of 
 her right. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And hushed forever was young Egbert's name 
 
 Within the castle where his father died ; 
 
 For all were steeped in sorrow by his shame 
 
 And inly cursed his dark exotic bride ; 
 
 For fair Euphrasia, long their native pride, 
 
 The victim of inconstancy, appeared 
 
 Like some pale gh<; - ■ iw her glide 
 
THE FEUD. 
 
 A : midnight to the chapel . undeterred, 
 Where she would spend in prayer those goblin L 
 so feared. 
 
 via. 
 But while the warriors of the castle swore, 
 H-r troubled spirit found a place of roe 
 r she her sorrows to her Saviour bore, 
 And gained that peaceful comfort of the bl 
 Her earnest plea w oe reqi: 
 
 That none for her should do young Egbert wrong ; 
 And asked for mercy, as it seenieth Ik 
 
 :»m Him to whom all vengeance doth belong ; 
 From Him who holds the fate of all life's helpless 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yci heedless, heartless, the grand castle new 
 Was filled with artisans, whose only care 
 
 their skill to carefully subdue 
 The rugged grandeur of its roughness there, 
 
64 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 And for its Grecian mistress to prepare 
 With all the cunning which the art to please 
 Had trained their genius, that it might com- 
 pare 
 With homes she left, where every balmy breeze 
 Bore on its spicy breath the dreams of sensual ease. 
 
 x. 
 
 Nor could the richest caravan surpass, 
 
 In rare voluptuous chattels of the East, 
 
 The one that brought proud Egbert's glitt'ring 
 
 mass 
 Of trophies won ; which royal gifts increased, — 
 Rich clothes, and gems, and trappings for a 
 
 feast ; 
 Such as might grace a monarch's festal board ; 
 And all unknown, though not by far the least, 
 Was gold in rich abundance, safely stored ; 
 Gold ! — gold as money stamped ! — gold for a princely 
 
 lord ! 
 
THE FEUD. 65 
 
 XI. 
 
 And with the men-at-arms who came before, 
 
 To guard this sumpter-train were servants, strange, 
 
 From climes unknown along the Rhine's cold 
 
 shore, 
 From Ethiopia, and from Asia's range, 
 In halls to wait, or watch within the grange 
 As grooms to serve the lady's Arab steed ; 
 And all as slaves were anxious to arrange 
 Their abject duties with a craven speed, 
 Before their mistress might their cringing service 
 
 need. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And like a Roman triumph, of renown, 
 Appeared the far-famed Egbert's march along ; 
 The crowd rolled up from country and from town 
 A surging mass, — an anxious motley throng. 
 They sought to see the famous Knight, so strong, 
 And her the radiant, — all-inspiring theme 
 Of every gallant troubadour's love-song, 
 
66 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Who, homeward bound, sung of her charms 
 supreme, 
 And how she gave the brave her hand in love's 
 esteem. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 At last, in pomp, Knight Egbert reached his home, 
 Surrounded mostly by an alien band. 
 None came to greet him from his father's dome ; 
 Few gave him welcome to his native land. 
 Within his hall he met the gauntlet hand 
 Hung by his brother there, proclaiming strife 
 For wrongs to fair Euphrasia ; and that brand 
 Of war he saw demanded even life 
 To seal the fatal bond which bound him to his wife. 
 
 XIV. 
 Then like a mist, oft round their rocky height, 
 The thought went chilling to the warrior's heart ; 
 To meet his brother in an earnest fight 
 Made him, the hero of death's revel, start. 
 
THE FEUD. 67 
 
 Of all his dreams, that never formed a part ; 
 His hope had been to share his great renown 
 With Baldwin brave, and make their hall a mart 
 Of lordly favors with each Emp'ror's crown : 
 Nor ever deemed that he would shun a mortal's 
 frown. 
 
 XV. 
 
 But wrong will palsy e'en the strongest will ; 
 It made proud Egbert strive in earnest might, 
 By peaceful acts, to calm the tempest still, 
 And roll the storm-cloud from his visions bright. 
 He passed unheeded every seeming slight ; 
 He placed in jeopardy his knightly fame, 
 Until his brother, valiant in the right, 
 Rejected all ; and called in Honor's name 
 For him to prove, with sword, the justice of his 
 claim. 
 
 XVI. 
 Poor, pale Euphrasia long had watched the brow 
 Of daring Baldwin, as the days crept by ; 
 
68 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Intuitive discernment told her how 
 It bore the omen of disaster nigh. 
 But all her research for the reason why 
 Availed her naught, for men, to reconcile 
 Her feverish mind and still the heaving sigh, 
 Would tell some story with a doubtful smile, 
 Or question in return, her forecast to beguile. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Once, long she lingered at her evening prayer, 
 Clad in her nightly robes of vestal white, 
 Like Jacob, wrestling for Almighty care 
 To guard, and guide, and help her through the 
 
 night ; 
 Then calmly rising, leaned her figure slight 
 Against the massive casement of her tower, 
 To catch those balmy breezes wafting light ; 
 So soothing, when the summer days their power 
 Of torrid heat have lost, in evening's tranquil 
 hour. 
 
THE FEUD. 69 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The clear full moon had reached the zenith high, 
 When witching midnight found her still alone, 
 Still gazing listless on the brilliant sky, 
 Or on the scene o'er which its light was thrown. 
 Down deep the rippling Rhine all sparkling shone; 
 While distant mountains, ranged in silvery gray, 
 Stood 'round, like sentries o'er a pile of stone, — 
 The convent — where she fancied 'mid the fray 
 Of life's cold, heartless world there smiled a peaceful 
 day. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Within her breast the rack of doubt was rife ; 
 Her grievous wrong had laid the bitter train 
 Of deadly feud ; and with the brothers' strife 
 She felt must lead to blood's corroding stain : 
 And while resolving ever to remain, 
 And stay the carnage, on her startled ear 
 There broke a sound ; she paused, — and then 
 again 
 
70 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 She heard the clattering of a horseman near, 
 And saw bold Baldwin brave, equipped for war, 
 appear. 
 
 xx. 
 
 ; Twas but a moment ! — like a flash he passed ! 
 And o'er the drawbridge on his flying steed 
 Swept his fleet way ; for as he upward cast 
 His eyes he saw a figure, like a reed, 
 Sway madly forward, striving to impede 
 His onward course with gesture wild and word ; 
 But well aware was he if once his speed 
 He checked, or once her tearful pleadings heard, 
 That heart would yield to grief which danger ne'er 
 deterred. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Then, frenzied, from her chamber high she fled, 
 And followed fast, urged forward by despair ; 
 Clad in white raiment, like the restless dead, 
 She seemed a fleeting spirit of the air. 
 
THE FEUD. 71 
 
 Onward she rushed without a thought or care 
 Of rocks beneath her slightly-covered feet ! 
 Onward! still onward! goaded by despair; 
 Seeking for those who in her cause should meet, 
 While praying still for strength their purpose to 
 defeat. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Hopeless at last, exhausted, on a rock 
 She paused, to view the doubtful prospect round ; 
 Her sylph-like form stood shivering with the shock 
 Of her heart's heavings, as dark fortune frowned 
 O'er every hope, when on her ear a sound 
 Burst like a smithy from a distant glade, 
 With clang cling clank, re-echo and rebound, 
 Loud as the tumult by old Vulcan made 
 When first, in rage, he forged for Death destruction's 
 blade. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Off, like a meteor, to the sound she fled ; 
 It told the story to her startled ear 
 
72 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Of swords contending in a conflict dread, 
 While Death's grim messenger awaited near. 
 Flushed — rushing onward ! followed by that fear 
 Of dying brothers — onward still she flew ! 
 O'er rocks and cliffs, like some bold mountaineer, 
 And reached the spot, — just as each brother 
 drew, 
 At watch and ward, a breath, ere strife began anew. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Dismounted both, — her dark forebodings true 
 Aroused within a superhuman might. 
 Grim was the scene of terror, in review, 
 As she beheld manoeuvring for the fight 
 Her foster-brothers ; — who was in the right 
 Was not her purpose or her thought to say ; 
 But all bewildered, frantic, in her fright 
 She threw herself between the Knights at bay, 
 Beseeching each by name to close in love their 
 fray. 
 
THE FEUD. 73 
 
 XXV. 
 " Stay ! — hold your swords ! or by the mother's 
 
 breast 
 That gave you life/ 1 the maiden wildly cried, 
 " This hour will seal your doom of dark unrest, 
 Black as the smoke which shrouds perdition's 
 
 tide! 
 Hold ! hold in mercy ! Why will ye abide 
 With swords uplifted ? O this dreadful hour ! 
 O Liebenstein ! and was it to divide 
 Thy house ye took me to your stately tower, — 
 A worthless thing of earth, to blight its noble 
 
 power ? 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " O Egbert sheathe ! O sheathe that deadly 
 
 blade ! 
 And hear in pity but the humble prayer 
 Of oue poor crushed, poor outcast trembling 
 
 maid, 
 And save her soul of sorrow from despair ! 
 
74 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 O I was once your mother's holy care ! 
 Your father's solace ! and his noble pride ! 
 Curse not the maiden who beside his chair 
 Received his benediction, sanctified 
 With hope's last vital breath ! — He blest me as he 
 died! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " I do not blame ye ! by my hope above, 
 
 The fault was here ! — within this heart of 
 
 mine ! 
 There reared I high the idol of my love 
 In adoration, like a thing divine. 
 Ay ! in my faith neglected e'en the shrine 
 Of Him who rules the mighty realms of day ! 
 My thoughts were thee ! — my every dream was 
 
 thine ! 
 Yes ! He who wills that mortals must obey 
 Wrecked in His righteous wrath my deity of 
 
 clay ! 
 
THE FEUD. 75 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 €t O Baldwin brave ! O generous and true ! 
 Stain not the glorious honor of your frame ! 
 Yours was the castle where the helpless flew 
 To find protection from oppression's shame ! 
 O do not blight the glory of that name, 
 So long the terror of each ruthless band ! 
 Mine was the wrong ! and mine alone the blame ! 
 Stand pure and right ; forever with thy hand 
 Unstained by reckless guilt ! — a refuge in your 
 land ! 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Around your neck I'll hang as now I do 
 In anguish here ! until this very night 
 Ye'll pledge me by your knightly honors true 
 To close this scene so dreadful to my sight ! 
 Oh, not for me shall Liebenstein's proud might 
 Sink like the sun behind a western storm ! 
 Mine was his love ! and shall I disunite 
 
76 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 That blood which throbs within your bosoms 
 warm ! — 
 O love and mercy no ! — it hallow'd once his form !" 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And so the maiden prayed her painful prayer, 
 
 Till both relented, and relaxed the hand 
 
 Which grasped the sword, and pledged their 
 
 honors there 
 No more in feuds of bitterness to stand. 
 Then on her knees Euphrasia blest the band 
 That bound them thus, and pledged her sacred 
 
 oath 
 To Him, the Sovereign of the skies and land, 
 To seek the holy convent, nothing loath, 
 And spend her days in prayers for blessings on them 
 
 both. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Thence all departed, each in quiet thought. 
 Brave Baldwin placed the maiden on his steed, 
 
THE RECONCILIATION. 77 
 
 While Egbert wandered to the place he sought, 
 In condemnation for his rash misdeed. 
 His humbled heart most deeply felt the need 
 Of grace, — or wild excitement in that hour ; — 
 Within oppressed, he let his charger lead 
 The homeward path, as one devoid of power, 
 Until he roused to find himself before his tower. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 He scarcely gave the passing signal word 
 To him who served as warder of the night, 
 But sought his chamber, spiritless, unheard 
 By her, his passion and his proud delight. 
 Yet, self-condemned, repulsive seemed the sight 
 Of all the luxuries around the place ; 
 And as the brilliant moon's reflected light 
 Illumed the warm voluptuous Grecian face, 
 It brought Euphrasia back, — a pale transfigured 
 grace. 
 
78 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The costly robes, the scattered gems around, 
 The very perfume of the laden air, 
 Served but as witnesses, without a sound, 
 To charge him with deception and despair. 
 Not all the grandeur from the Orient there 
 Could calm his mind or give his soul relief. 
 He sought his casement for the breezes fair, 
 But every tremor of each troubled leaf 
 Recalled a stricken form, all shuddering in her 
 grief. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Thus long disconsolate he passed the hour 
 Until the rising sun shot high his ray — 
 Which roused the lark, and painted every flower, 
 And lit the dew-gems — on a cloudless day. 
 Alexa, listless, turning where she lay, 
 Aroused to see her husband's mail-clad form 
 Bedusted o'er, and saw with deep dismay 
 
THE SEQUEL. 79 
 
 His features pallid, as when evils swarm, 
 And quickly thus began to calm the hidden storm : 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 fi What evil, love, what evil may betide 
 My noble lord to leave me thus alone ? 
 To wake and find no Egbert by my side 
 Reveals a dream of love's bright transports flown. 
 Have all my charms you gloried once your own 
 Gone like the rose when winter's frozen blight 
 Sweeps o'er your hills ? Oh for my southern zone ! 
 Where once you found me a proud court's delight, 
 And seized me as a bird caught by your falcon's 
 might. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " You swore you loved me, that my very eyes 
 Eclipsed the stars in night's celestial train ; 
 Your soul, aglow, would melt iu burning sighs 
 If love's desires, love's pleadings were in vain. 
 

 80 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Requite ye now with cold desertion's pain 
 A simple heart of faith, believing true 
 The vows of man. Oh for my home again ! 
 Where I might hide me from the heartless view 
 Of all this cold, cold world, to weep alone for you." 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And thus she played her deep, her subtle part, 
 In artful grief and wanton wooings there, 
 Until she dazzled by her zeal his heart, 
 And broke the current of his dark despair. 
 Love, tears, and wine, and every luring care 
 That woman's wiles around a man can weave, 
 She used with skill her victim to ensnare, 
 Lest hidden thoughts o'er which she saw him 
 grieve 
 Might all her brilliant plans of vanity deceive. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 In dissipation's vortex deep he sank, 
 While from afar the splendor of her fame 
 
THE SEQUEL. 81 
 
 Drew flocking vultures of distinguished rank 
 Around the castle, reeking in their shame. 
 Depraved adventurers of noble name 
 And errant-knights, from every earthly clime, 
 In homage to this wondrous beauty came, 
 Till Egbert's dome, so famous in its time, 
 Surpassed his monarch's court in brilliancy sublime. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Blithe hawking, tournaments, and every sport 
 Man could invent were used to drown the day ; 
 Their hall of banqueting was night's resort, 
 Where glittering intrigue revelled in display. 
 There wine and wassail wiled the hours away, 
 While Satan trod, soft as a fairy light, 
 Around the board of sparkling beakers gay, 
 Touching each goblet with that magic might 
 Which thrills poor Folly's soul with Hell's destroy- 
 ing blight. 
 

 82 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 XL. 
 
 But soon dark rumors of the world were told — 
 Of vile inconstancy, of hidden shame — 
 To Baldwin brave, the generous and bold, 
 Reflecting evil on his noble name. 
 Pollution foul had lit its hissing flame — 
 So said the scandal — in his brother's hall : 
 That fair Alexa was the lecher's aim, 
 And wanton deeds offensive to recall 
 Were freely whispered around, in triumph of her 
 fall. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Then Baldwin, grieving, with a troubled heart, 
 Bore to his brother vain the word " Beware !" 
 That sound offensive, like a venomed dart, 
 Tore Egbert's breast with surging conflicts rare. 
 False to his trust ! his own, his matchless fair ! 
 O faith ! 'twas more than honor could believe. 
 Her words were love, his wishes all her care; 
 
THE SEQUEL. 83 
 
 His simple doubt would make her spirit grieve. 
 No ! no ! 'twas envy's tongue but striving to deceive. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Frail man of clay ! how easily betrayed 
 Art thou when passion tunes its watching song 
 In siren notes, as beauty undismayed 
 Overshadows with hypocrisy her wrong ! 
 Thou wert by nature made in power strong, 
 To shield her when the bleak winds fiercely blow 7 ; 
 Around thy form, like ivy's twining thong, 
 She seems to cling, she seems in love to grow. 
 Nor wouldst thou have that dream crushed for the 
 world below. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Proud Egbert would not, could not deem her 
 
 wrong. 
 Her love had been all rapture, ever bright, 
 

 84 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Since first she called him from the glittering 
 
 throng, 
 Her one ideal of a gallant knight. 
 Long had they been each other's fond delight ; 
 Her very eyes had kindled in his soul 
 Love's quenchless flame, and adoration's might 
 Held firm his every impulse in control 
 Against all shades of doubt that could his love 
 enroll. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Thus lulled in rosy dreams of bliss at home, 
 In boon companionship he left his ground, 
 With falcons swift to sweep the clouds, or roam 
 With packs the forest where the sports abound, 
 When, after days returning home, he found 
 His own bright bird had taken wings and fled. 
 Within her chamber, scattered wildly round, 
 Were wrecks of ruin, which a glimmer shed 
 O'er all her plundering deeds before the wanton 
 sped. 
 
THE SEQUEL. 85 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Gall ! bitter gall ! dripped from his hopeless 
 
 cup, 
 As he bewildered drank the vision in. 
 Deep in his soul he summed his anguish up : 
 Desertion ! — woe ! — his own remorseless sin. 
 Surprised, — appalled, — ere reason could begin, 
 He stood a pallid statue, all aghast ; 
 Without a shadow of a hope within ; 
 Fixed as a tree, shorn by the winter's blast, 
 As he beheld with gloom dishonor to the last. 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 Then came reaction, with its blazing train 
 Of furious blood, that, like a torrent's flow, 
 Rolled in its course through every swollen vein, 
 Consuming all his thoughts save one below: 
 Revenge ! — dark ! — deep ! — to learn his secret foe, 
 He raving sought each menial through his place, 
 But none could name the subtle knave of woe, 
 

 86 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 Nor of his lineage give the slightest trace ; 
 Save that he was of France, — a knight of brilliant 
 grace. 
 
 XLVir. 
 Armed to the teeth, with Baldwin by his side, 
 Like errant-knights they rode without delay, 
 In search, and research, through the country wide ; 
 Exploring caves and castles on their way. 
 But all in vain ; not one clear guiding ray 
 Revealed the pathway of the vile forsworn ; 
 But Egbert saw, at every forced delay, 
 The cruel finger of remorseless scorn 
 Was pointed at the man of nuptial honors shorn. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Then from the world he shrunk in shame and 
 
 grief, 
 And turned with Baldwin homeward from the 
 
 chase. 
 
THE SEQUEL. 87 
 
 His martial glory gave but small relief 
 
 Against the heartless scorning of the base. 
 
 In sad review he saw Euphrasia^ case, 
 
 And felt the anguish which his wrong had 
 
 wrought ; 
 Again the helpless, tearful, pleading face 
 Appeared, as when the twain together fought, 
 Like Mercy's spirit roused, to bring their strife to 
 
 naught. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Back in those times that darkened every ray 
 Of gospel grace, before reviving light 
 Loomed in the glorious splendor of its day, 
 Men groped their way along the path of right. 
 Oft priestcraft swayed through superstition's might 
 The fierce unlettered spirits of the age ; 
 Men paid by penance for their errors slight, 
 While many, troubled, would by vows engage 
 To follow some wild dream their conscience to 
 assuage. 
 
88 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 L. 
 
 So Baldwin brave, and broken Egbert swore, 
 Upon the symbol of their dying Lord, 
 Together with Euphrasia they'd adore 
 Their God in sanctity, and sheathe the sword : 
 That when they left this world of sin abhorr'd, 
 Euphrasia's convent should as tribute hold 
 Their castles, lands, and all their treasure stored ; 
 And asked but for this bounty, rich in gold, 
 The convent's prayers, to guide their souls to glory's 
 fold. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Almighty Father ! what a boon to live 
 And see the sun of righteousness arise 
 Above the clouds of ignorance, and give 
 Its guiding light to mansions in the skies ! 
 Now, in our time, the knowing Christian flies 
 In faith o'er fallacies of earth to see 
 Thy glory, Lord, with unbeclouded eyes, 
 
THE SEQUEL. 89 
 
 And learn how love sets every sinner free, 
 Who bears his burdened soul in contrite prayers to 
 Thee. 
 
 LII. 
 
 But as the brothers journeyed to that goal 
 Of bliss eternal, where the righteous dwell, 
 One, all-triumphant, gloried in his soul ; 
 The other staggered 'neath a load of Hell. 
 Poor Egbert felt the ever-blighting spell 
 Of worldly dreams, of vanity's array, 
 That o'er his spirit cast a shadow fell, 
 And filled the man with doubts of dark dismay, 
 As fleeting, faster, rolled his mortal years away. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Each evil deed, each careless misspent hour, 
 Seemed but as links in error's hopeless chain ; 
 Uniting in their strength, combined, a power 
 Which bound him helpless to this world of pain. 
 Long fasts and penances alike were vain 
 
90 EUPHRASIA. 
 
 To break his bond or calm his troubled mind; 
 Back would his thoughts in anguish roll again, 
 Until the Spirit taught his soul to find 
 In love, celestial love, that peace of Mercy kind. 
 
 LIV. 
 But honest Baldwin — he whose manly life 
 Had been a blessing to our troubled race ; 
 Who always stood against oppression's strife, 
 Where wrong would crush the helpless in dis- 
 grace — 
 Was buoyant, light ; his conscience scarce a trace 
 Felt of remorse ; according to his time 
 He kept the path which virtue might retrace ; 
 And stainless there, without a conscious crime, 
 Took up the pilgrim's staff for glory's realm sub- 
 lime. 
 
 He saw Jehovah, Lord of all divine, 
 In all the glowing splendors of the sky; 
 
THE SEQUEL. 91 
 
 That Word winch bid Creation's light to shine 
 Spoke ever beaming, radiant from on high. 
 Blest Mercy's breath seemed in the soft wind's 
 
 sigh 
 A holy anger in the thunder's roll ; 
 But Baldwin feared not e'en the fatal die 
 In death's cold hand ; for in his 'raptured soul 
 He glorified his God, the all-supreme control! 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Calmed by the Spirit, through the Saviour's love, 
 At last these brothers trod their peaceful way 
 Toward that land of hallow'd bliss above, 
 Where love triumphant holds eternal sway. 
 Long years have flown since they beheld the ray 
 Of their last sun sink in the distant AVest; 
 And ruin's hand has left, to slow decay, 
 But crumbling walls, of all that great bequest, 
 Which made the convent rich that poor Euphrasia 
 blest. 
 

ALBERTA. 
 
 IN FOUR CANTOS. 
 

ALBERTA. 
 
 OAITO I. 
 THE HEROINE. 
 
 Alberta, fair, the beautiful, 
 A pearl of youthful prime, 
 
 Reclined upon a bank of flowers 
 En mixed with perfume thyme ; 
 
 Her cottage near was fair to see, 
 
 The distant scene sublime. 
 
 95 
 
96 ALBERTA. 
 
 Her home was where the German Alps 
 In might and grandeur stand ; 
 
 Where first they raised their craggy heights 
 Above the rolling land. 
 
 And when she lived, was in the days 
 Of knighthood's iron hand. 
 
 Alberta, fair, the beautiful, 
 
 A seraph to behold, 
 With eyes as true as heaven's blue, 
 
 With hair of fleecy gold : 
 Her brow was like the lily fair, 
 
 Her face of peerless mould. 
 
 Alberta, fair, the beautiful, 
 No art could match her form ; 
 
 The sculptor's best is but a breast 
 Unmoved by passion's storm ; — 
 
 But hers, with modest love and hope, 
 Was ever heaving warm. 
 
THE HEROINE. 97 
 
 Long in her pensive mood she watched 
 
 A shadow mark the hours, 
 As from a lofty peak it swept 
 
 O'er flocks, and fields, and flowers ; 
 While Cupid through the roses, smiled 
 
 From one of nature's bowers. 
 
 That royal peak, which rose so high, 
 
 Supported on its crest 
 A castle, seeming near the sky, 
 
 Whence, like an eagle's nest, 
 The valiant daring out could hie, 
 
 Or safely sleep at rest. 
 
 And as the evening tide drew nigh, 
 She turned to see the bold 
 
 Old castle, where the sleepy sun 
 Had hung his crown of gold, 
 
 As he beneath the crimson west 
 
 In night's dark cavern rolled. 
 
 7 
 
98 ALBERTA. 
 
 And then she thought, with glowing pride, 
 
 Tradition's stories o'er ; 
 How many brave and gallant Knights 
 
 Had from its portals bore, 
 Through raging wars and feudal strife, 
 
 Their pennons proud of yore. 
 
 And then the tears bedim med her eyes 
 
 In memory of the brave 
 Old Baron, and his youthful sons, 
 
 Who marched in might to save 
 That Holy Land from sacrilege, — 
 
 Land of the sacred grave. 
 
 And then, with grief, her bitter tears 
 
 In torrents fell like rain ; 
 For at their head her uncle bore 
 
 The banner of the train. 
 A gentle priest was he, of faith, 
 
 Now sleeping with the slain. 
 
THE HEROINE. 99 
 
 'Twas when the Crescent met the Cross, 
 
 In conflict to the knife, 
 The Baron and his eldest son 
 
 Paid deep the debt of life ; 
 While there he fell, anointing both, — 
 
 The saint amid the strife. 
 
 Yes, he was gone, and she was left 
 In this cold world alone ! 
 
 Without him here, her every dream 
 Of usefulness had flown — 
 
 Her mind was on the convent now, 
 Behind its walls of stone. 
 
 But, yet, she well remembered how 
 
 A herald, from afar, 
 Once came to bear the tidings home 
 
 About the Holy War ; 
 And brought from him, to her, and left 
 
 A missive at her door. 
 
100 ALBERTA. 
 
 The missive told, — a convent life 
 Was but a life of naught, — 
 
 " The world's a field of blighting tares, 
 For Mercy's hand unwrought ; 
 
 Where love can save the ignorant, 
 The Saviour's blood has bought." 
 
 And then she strove to dry her tears ; 
 
 The morrow was the day 
 The veterans all were coming home, 
 
 Were coming home to stay ; 
 And at their head the youngest son, 
 
 A man of mighty sway. 
 
 To-morrow, yes, while all are out, 
 
 She'd go and kneel before 
 The youthful Baron, homeward bound 
 
 In glory from the war, 
 And give him all the earnest thanks 
 
 Her loving bosom bore. 
 
THE HEROINE. \Q\ 
 
 For deeds, when back with valiant hand 
 
 The Saracenic horde 
 He drove, and rescued him who stopped 
 
 To bless his dying Lord ; 
 And there received his fatal wound, — * 
 
 The uncle she adored. 
 
 The tear-drop sparkled in her eye, 
 As sweet Alberta smiled, 
 
 When she recalled a boyish sport, — 
 The Knight was young and wild 
 
 AVhen to the castle's lordly halls 
 Her uncle took his child. 
 
 The knightly boys at tourney played ; 
 
 The youngest, bold and fair, 
 Made her his queen of love, and cut 
 
 A ringlet from her hair, 
 Then placed it in his gallant cap, 
 
 A pledge of love to wear. 
 
102 ALBERTA. 
 
 Though long forgotten by the Lord, 
 The child of humble birth 
 
 Felt proud to think that she had been 
 His queen in childish mirth ; 
 
 For he was now a man of might 
 Among the men of earth. 
 
 Her couch, in prayer, she saintly sought 
 
 As evening passed away ; 
 Alberta, fair, the beautiful, 
 
 From every dark dismay, 
 Celestial in her purity, 
 
 Dreamed night, in bliss, away. 
 
CA^TO II 
 
 THE RETURN. 
 
 Aurora in the eastern skies 
 Re-opened clear her drowsy eyes, 
 
 Dispelling sable night; 
 Then brightly robed in amber gay, 
 She chased the morning clouds away, 
 Resplendent ! — showering on the day 
 
 Her golden beams of light. 
 The birds were up, — on every tree 
 The forest warblers sang with glee 
 
 Their praises of the morn. 
 Alberta rising from her bed 
 Came forth ; and at her fairy tread 
 Each flower bowed its dewy head 
 
 To charms that might adorn 
 
 103 
 
104 ALBERTA. 
 
 The chosen beauty of their best, 
 While 'neath her anxious, throbbing breast 
 A hopeful heart of life's unrest 
 Was in her bosom borne. 
 
 That day at home, from Judah's shore, 
 Each coming brave would love restore. 
 Her uncle dead, — none to adore, — 
 
 She'd seek the convent now ; 
 For he Alberta fair, in love, 
 Had educated far above 
 
 The peasant and the plough. 
 But yet she must return her thanks 
 
 To that heroic Knight, 
 Who charged alone the serried ranks 
 
 Where thickest surged the fight, 
 And bore upon a victor's arm 
 Her dying uncle safe from harm 
 Before his soul took flight. 
 And then within the convent wall 
 She'd go and wait the final call, — 
 
THE RETURN. 1Q5 
 
 The call that gives its blissful bed 
 Of blessing to the sainted dead. 
 
 She saw, toward a cloudless sky, 
 The castle's banners waving high, — 
 Old banners, trophies won in war, 
 And standards of its Knights of yore, — 
 
 To welcome home again 
 Minerva's protege adored ; 
 Who hurled his men against the horde 
 Of Islam's ranks, and turned the hour 
 When Mars seemed leading on their power, 
 
 In Palestine's domain. 
 
 Gray men-at-arms, bold warriors old, 
 Who served for years the ancient hold, 
 
 Were busy on that day. 
 Long had they held, with pride and power, 
 Its moat, the barbacan, the tower ; 
 And now like youths rode wild that hour, 
 
 To gather in display 
 
106 ALBERTA. 
 
 His thousand vassals scattered 'round, 
 And serfs belonging to his ground, 
 From valley, plain, and mountain-dome, 
 To swell their Hero's welcome home. 
 
 And heralds riding reckless came 
 With orders brought in Rudolph's name, 
 And told how with a neighbor Knight 
 Their Baron stopped, to wait the light 
 
 Of morning, to review 
 His feudal lands, of ancient date, — 
 Lands of his lineage, long and great, — 
 
 And meet his vassals true. 
 And as the people heard the call, 
 They swarming came from hut and hall, 
 The gentry, boors, and children small, 
 
 To greet their Lord anew. 
 
 As morning sped, near her abode 
 Alberta stood, — when on the road, 
 Which hung around the mountain-side, 
 She saw a rolling human tide, 
 
THE RETURN. 107 
 
 Who filled with loud acclaim 
 Of welcome all the valleys deep, 
 While echoes rolled from every steep 
 
 The glory of his name. 
 A legion spear-heads shining bright 
 Were flashing on their gleams of light, 
 
 Like glints of morn at play ; 
 And every lance a pennant bore 
 Of youthful Knight, or Knight of war 
 Who long had braved the conflict sore 
 
 Of infidel array. 
 
 On ! on ! they came ; when near at hand 
 She saw how wild the rabble band 
 Came crushing down with frenzied shout ; 
 Came crowding so the martial route, 
 
 It chilled her with dismay ; 
 For hope had filled her anxious breast 
 Her thanks to give, then seek the blest, 
 
 On that transplendent day. 
 
108 ALBERTA. 
 
 But as the phalanx moved along, 
 She saw a strange, a motley throng 
 Of braves, who shared their leader's fate, 
 And sycophants around the great. 
 
 Bold Knights whose valor braved the shore 
 
 Of Galilee in holy war, 
 
 Came riding as they rode, in power, 
 
 From town to town and castle tower, 
 
 Escorting him they held above 
 
 All others in their soldiers' love 
 
 To his paternal bower. 
 And every Knight had by his side 
 A squire, with their flag of pride, 
 
 To mark their native land ; 
 And many trophies, too, they bore, 
 That told their tales of foreign war 
 
 On Araby's hot sand. 
 
 The men who manned the cross-bows strong, 
 And veteran archers marched along, 
 
THE RETURN. 109 
 
 In cuirasses all made entire 
 
 Of closely- woven chains of wire ; 
 
 And iron caps they wore. 
 And holy palmers graced the line, 
 Who prayed their prayers at every shrine 
 
 On Jordan's rocky shore. 
 The troubadour with gallant air, 
 The child of song, and little care, 
 
 Was mixed among the throng. 
 In conflict's doubtful rest he gave, 
 To nerve the faint and cheer the brave, 
 
 His stirring martial song; 
 But in the hero's idle hour, 
 The theme would be his lady's bower, 
 Which wafted back, on music's strain, 
 The soldier to his love again. 
 
 'Twas her young Baron at their head 
 Who onward all this pageant led; 
 A Knight, indeed, sublimely bold, 
 In mail of steel, with spurs of gold ; 
 
HO ALBERTA. 
 
 And golden chasings, quaint and fine, 
 His visor bore ; and one design, 
 That proudly marked his noble breast, 
 Was his exalted ancient crest, — 
 
 His ancient lineage told. 
 And proudly his proud steed he strode, 
 Gay, chafing, prancing on the road, 
 All clad in housings rich and rare, 
 And o'er their crimson velvet were 
 
 Devices worked in gold. 
 
 With terror back Alberta bore, 
 As wildly on the rabble tore ; 
 
 For as he passed along 
 The Baron, with a lordly hand, 
 Like seed sown on the fallow land, 
 
 Spread money to the throng. 
 He passed, and, oh, her heavy grief! 
 She thanked him not, — found no relief, 
 
 No smile, not e'en a frown. 
 
THE RETURN. \\\ 
 
 Around him pressed the greedy crowd, 
 And though they cheered his praises loud, 
 
 He wore his visor down. 
 And, oh, the thought ! such haughty pride 
 As thus to friends his face denied 
 
 Seemed but an omen ill. 
 Her vow of thanks she strove to keep ; 
 But, filled with disappointment deep, 
 She entered in her cot to weep, 
 
 And bowed to Heaven's will. 
 
CANTO III. 
 
 THE TROUBADOUR. 
 
 The days rolled by. The castle high 
 
 With revelry was wild and gay; 
 The nobles vied, in all their pride, 
 
 And gathered round in rich array 
 To welcome him who at the shrine 
 Of Glory knelt in Palestine, — 
 To welcome him who, sword in hand, 
 Had braved Mohammed's evil band, 
 And carved his way, where others fell, 
 Among those dusky fiends of hell. 
 
 The swineherd left upon the moor 
 His charge, and every serf and boor, 
 It seemed, had left the scattered hay 
 Upon the new-mown meadows lay, 
 
 112 
 
THE TROUBADOUR. H3 
 
 To throng around the castle gate, 
 For largess from the passing great : 
 While sweet Alberta, lorn and lone, 
 
 Remained in solitude to sigh, 
 Without a friend when hope had flown, 
 
 Save but an ancient hermit nigh, 
 Who long had watched this gentle dove 
 With all a saintly father's love. 
 For threescore years within a cell 
 
 He lived beside his chapel there, 
 To sound at eve the vesper bell, 
 
 And greet the morning with his prayer ; 
 And but a bowshot from her home 
 Was this old anchorite's poor dome, 
 Where rich and poor alike did call, 
 To crave a blessing over all. 
 
 One morning from the chapel prayer 
 There came to see Alberta fair 
 A dashing youth, with waving plume, 
 An eagle eye, and cheek of bloom ; 
 
114 ALBERTA. 
 
 Who o'er the shoulder lightly bore 
 The lute, that told the troubadour. 
 His form was all a man's should be; , 
 His nut-brown locks were waving free; 
 His bearded visage bore the trace 
 Of Eastern suns upon his face, 
 That told how he had travelled far 
 To shrines amid the scenes of war. 
 
 And with this stranger, young and gay, 
 The hermit came, bowed, old, and gray, 
 
 To calm Alberta's fear. 
 The youth had watched the anxious night 
 Her uncle's, spirit took its flight, 
 
 And with a pledge sincere 
 Had promised him to kindly bear 
 A dying blessing back with care, — 
 A blessing to his child of prayer. 
 
 The gallant, while Alberta wept, 
 Told how the saintly hero slept 
 
THE TROUBADOUR. \\§ 
 
 In peace beneath the hallowed sod 
 Where once the blessed Saviour trod ; 
 And how within the Shepherd's fold 
 His spirit walks the streets of gold ; 
 Then to the lute was sung a strain, 
 To rouse Alberta's soul again : 
 
 "This world would all in darkness be 
 
 If mercy were not near. 
 The Father, maiden, watches thee, 
 
 To bless thy falling tear ; 
 For tears alone, blest from above, 
 
 Can heal the pangs of grief 
 When, mourning o'er departed love, 
 
 The heart must find relief. 
 
 " But dry thine eyes, Alberta fair ; 
 
 A promise freely given 
 Is bliss to those who o'er despair 
 
 Will rise and live for heaven. 
 
116 ALBERTA. 
 
 There's work for thee, for thee and me, 
 While worldly billows wave. 
 
 Come, brave with me life's stormy lee ; 
 We'll seek, and serve, and save." 
 
 The maiden raised her eyes, — their glow 
 Seemed more of heaven than earth below ; 
 Indeed, they both appeared to shine 
 With some Promethean light divine 
 That burned within, — a soul on fire, 
 Enraptured with unquenched desire. 
 u I once had hope," she said ; " but now 
 
 My hope with him has passed away. 
 To see the Baron, — pay my vow 
 
 Of thanks, is why I longer stay 
 Within this world of frowning fate, 
 Before I seek the convent gate. 
 To him is filled, in every part, 
 With gratitude my bursting heart ! 
 To him who from the deadly fray 
 My wounded uncle bore away ! 
 
THE TROUBADOUR. H7 
 
 To him who with his single sword 
 Drove back the thirsting savage horde — 
 
 " Why have you thus withheld the tale 
 
 Of valor? Though I must bewail 
 
 My own bereavement, in the grave, 
 
 I yet can love the living brave. 
 
 Yes ! though they tell me in his pride 
 
 He's gathered round on every side 
 
 The grandeur of the Eastern clime, 
 
 Like Oriental dreams sublime, 
 
 To grace in vanity the walls 
 
 Of his ancestral, lordly halls. 
 
 He's only young ! — His noble heart 
 
 In vanity can hold no part, 
 
 Save what may glow, as beams the ray 
 
 That gayly tells the youthful day 
 
 Is coming on in all its power, 
 
 Of growing strength with every hour. 
 
 But should it be ; 'tis all the same, — 
 
 I'll ever bless his precious name. 
 
118 ALBERTA. 
 
 I'll kneel before him, — at his feet, — 
 
 And in humility repeat 
 
 Some words of bursting thanks before 
 
 I step within the convent door. 
 
 And then — while life shall hold its sway, 
 
 I'll ceaseless for his glory pray !" 
 
 ",'Tis kind, Alberta, kind indeed ; 
 The Baron's follies oft may need 
 Thy saintly prayers/' the youth replied ; 
 " For folly's waves on every side 
 Beset the young who hold the power 
 To bless or blight their neighbor's bower. 
 I know the Baron, — shared his fate 
 At morn, at noon, at midnight late; 
 I know him well, and here can say 
 That vanity holds little sway 
 In bringing to his native land 
 The peaceful arts of culture's hand. 
 He looked in sorrow when he learned 
 How little good of life returned 
 
THE TROUBADOUR. [\Q 
 
 In lands that rule by blood alone, 
 To lord, or serf, or e'en the throne ; 
 And now he longs by every art 
 To cultivate his people's heart. 
 You owe no thanks. He did not do 
 But what an honest soldier true 
 Should always do, when those in war 
 Are hard beset in conflict sore, — 
 Charge to the rescue !— bear away 
 A comrade wounded in the fray. 
 His kinsman perished in the strife :. 
 J Twas yours alone that clung to life. 
 
 " But softly, sweet Alberta, — now 
 We'll talk of that same solemn vow 
 Which you have made, when times afford 
 A chance, to thank the youthful Lord. 
 ? Tis well, — and I will do my best 
 To give that comfort to your breast; 
 But talk no more of convent walls, 
 For you would grace the proudest halls 
 
120 ALBERTA. 
 
 Of martial pomp, or regal power, 
 
 Or charm with love a fairy bow r er. 
 
 I know your plans, — your uncle said, 
 
 To me, how oft his gentle maid 
 
 Had planned to brave the world with him, 
 
 To fight the subtle tide of sin ; 
 
 And now because he is no more, 
 
 You'd shrink behind the convent door, 
 
 And waste a life of precious bloom 
 
 Within a tomb, — a living tomb. 
 
 No ! share with me, Alberta, fair, 
 
 My life ! — and free as mountain air 
 
 Thy troubadour and thee will find 
 
 Bliss in a life of mercy kind : 
 
 And, oh ! with thee, my charming bride, 
 
 Surpassing Sharon's rose of pride, 
 
 Our path shall be a path of grace, 
 
 That mem'ry may with love retrace/' 
 
 From day to day he came again, 
 With tender words and music's strain, 
 
 
THE TROUBADOUR. 121 
 
 And by his honest, manly part 
 Won sweet Alberta's gentle heart ; 
 For soon, before the hermit gray, 
 They came betrothed and named the day ; 
 But ere they sought the minstrel's home, 
 Alberta 'neath the castle dome, 
 
 As bride and loving wife, 
 Should go before the Knight and pour 
 The thanks she held so long in store, 
 Then with her gallant troubadour 
 
 Would brave the tide of life. 
 
CA^TO IT. 
 THE CONCLUSION. 
 
 As twilight darkened in the west, 
 
 L > 
 
 Alberta's anxious heaving breast 
 Arose and fell, — love's glowing tide 
 Surged through her heart, — for by her side 
 That night, before the hermit's shrine, 
 
 She and her troubadour would stand, 
 To plight their hopes almost divine, 
 
 In wedlock's holy band. 
 
 Her matchless charms of beauty rare 
 
 Paled every blossom in her hair, 
 
 For naught below could there have vied 
 
 With her, the lovely, waiting bride, 
 
 Who, like a frightened deer, 
 122 
 
THE CONCLUSION. 123 
 
 Stood trembling, as she heard it come, — 
 The step, to lead her from her home, 
 
 Approach her cottage near. 
 She trembled, too, — the time was now 
 When she could pay that solemn vow. 
 That night the Baron held high court, 
 The nobles 'round would there resort, 
 And she as wife an honored place 
 Should hold, and meet him face to face; 
 For her betrothed had many a day 
 Attuned his lute to happy lay 
 And soothed the Baron's cares away ; 
 And well he knew he held a part 
 Of love within that hero's heart. 
 
 And while they walked amid perfume 
 Of dewy bloom, the bride and groom, 
 
 With Cupid as their guide, 
 Gained confidence ere they before 
 The hermit stood, within the door, 
 
 At Hymen's altar's side. 
 
124 ALBERTA. 
 
 Without the chapel, tied, there stood 
 Three palfreys, waiting in the wood ; 
 Within, it all seemed strange that night, 
 And strange the holy anchorite 
 Appeared, as he in vestments gay, 
 Of sacerdotal rich display, 
 
 Performed the sacred rite. 
 Indeed, the hermit's aged soul 
 Seemed backward on time's tide to roll, 
 When he, like Father Winter gray, 
 They like the blooming buds of May, 
 Rode up that he might sanctify 
 Their presence at the castle high. 
 
 Bright beaming floods of silvery spray 
 Fell through the wood, to light their way, 
 
 From night's round lamp above. 
 But brighter far, within a glow 
 Filled every soul with rapture's flow, — 
 
 Celestial seemed their love. 
 
THE COyCLUSIOX. 125 
 
 And as they climbed the mountain-side, 
 The lofty summits scattered wide, 
 Appeared as lifted twice their height 
 Beneath the moon's imperial light, 
 While she as queen, where lights abound, 
 Displayed her charms, with pages 'round 
 To grace the wedding night. 
 
 The upward road along the steep, 
 That led toward the ancient keep, 
 Was lively then, in bright array, 
 With groups of Knights and ladies gay, 
 
 Bound to the bold retreat. 
 For fame had spread the rumor far 
 The Knight had brought with him from war 
 Those luxuries, sublime and grand, 
 Like tales of Oriental land 
 
 The minstrels oft repeat. 
 
 Our pilgrims, wrapt in mantles light, 
 To shield them from obtrusive sight, 
 
126 ALBERTA. 
 
 Kept well aloof from those of pride, 
 Who might have scorned the humble bride, 
 
 Though beautiful and bright; 
 And turning from the road of state, 
 They sought a distant postern gate, 
 Where loud the minstrel blew his horn ; 
 When back upon the breezes borne 
 The echoes came, as though the sound 
 From every hill was answered round 
 
 By warders of the night. 
 Within was heard the clattering chain, 
 And as the gate-bars moved again, 
 They opened with a grating note ; 
 The drawbridge fell across the moat ; 
 And those who answered welcomed all 
 Within the bold, embattled wall. 
 
 A vaulted archway from the door 
 Reached by a stair the upper floor, 
 Where they, amid the busy maze ■ 
 Of coming guests, escaped the gaze ; 
 
THE CONCLUSION. 127 
 
 For nothing there would then provoke 
 The curious, for in hood and cloak 
 Were many who had come to grace 
 In pomp and pride the lordly place. 
 Along the corridor's bold wall, 
 That led toward the noble hall, 
 Alberta saw strange trophies old 
 Which many a wild adventure told, 
 Of lances strained, and banners -torn, 
 Of armors bruised, in battle worn ; 
 And there, along from place to place, 
 Swung from the royal horns of chase, 
 Were scented lamps, which shed a light 
 That banished every gloom of night. 
 
 And through a little panel door 
 They gained again an upper floor, 
 Where they could stay and see, unseen,, 
 Beneath a gorgeous damask screen, 
 The hall below so strangely grand 
 'Twas like a scene in fairy-land. 
 
128 ALBERTA. 
 
 Enchanted seemed the brilliant room: 
 The air was laden with perfume ; 
 The otto of the eastern rose 
 The senses lulled in sweet repose ; 
 And all appeared too bright a place 
 On earth for this our fallen race. 
 The walls with tapestry were hung, 
 Great golden clasps to curtains clung, 
 A carpet rich from Persia's store 
 O'erspread the rough old oaken floor, 
 That broke the heavy martial tread 
 Of Knights upon its velvet bed ; 
 And crowded was the royal room 
 With hoary age and youthful bloom ; 
 The rustling silk, the waving plume, 
 Of gallant Knights and ladies fair 
 In gems and pearls, all gathered there, 
 Obedient to the Baron's call, 
 To grace that night his father's hall. 
 
 Alberta's husband seemed to share 
 The spirit on the evening air; 
 
THE CONCLUSION. 129 
 
 And there, as if to shield from harm 
 
 His wife, he drew her gentle arm 
 
 Through his, and with the Priest before, 
 
 Descended through a curtained door. 
 
 Loud was the shout that rent the air, 
 
 To welcome in the coming pair ; 
 
 And high above the noisy crowd 
 
 Were heard the heralds' voices loud, — 
 
 " Hail nobles all ! please stand aside ! 
 
 Room for the bridegroom and the bride ! 
 
 We here present this gentle dove 
 
 As Queen of Beauty, Worth, and Love !" 
 
 And as they pressed their way along, 
 
 A gauntlet, through the crowding throng, 
 
 Soft music floated on the air 
 
 Like blessings o'er the youthful pair ; 
 
 While they, behind the Priest, as guide, 
 
 Were led toward the upper side ; 
 
 Where stood those seats, that seemed the post 
 
 Of honor, for the noble host. 
 
130 ALBERTA. 
 
 Alberta felt her spirit quail ; 
 Her husband saw her courage fail, 
 And gently with his arm embraced 
 Her sinking form around the waist, 
 While she across his shoulder flung 
 Her hand, and thus in pity clung, 
 And begged to know what it could mean, 
 The wild excitement of the scene. 
 
 " It means, my love, — Fll tell you now,— 
 That you have long since paid your vow 
 Of thanks to my own father's son 
 For deeds that I myself have done. 
 It means that I now here proclaim 
 Thee Countess of my broad domain ; 
 And what all else Fll boast above, 
 Our marriage is a bond of love. 
 When I, a child, Alberta, fair, 
 Once cut a ringlet of your hair, 
 I claimed that when at man's estate 
 I'd make thee, love, my star of fate. 
 
THE CONCLUSION. 13] 
 
 I've worn that lock from boyhood's hour, 
 
 In camp of war, in royal bower ; 
 
 From evil's wiles it kept me free ; 
 
 It was a talisman to me. 
 
 And when I came, lest pride and power 
 
 Might tempt yon in your trying hour, 
 
 I came to win or lose my own 
 
 On merit of myself alone. 
 
 And, oh ! how wise I found my part, 
 
 When first I sought thy loving heart ! 
 
 For now I know thy modest worth 
 
 Would then have shrunk from pride of birth, 
 
 Lest thou wouldst find that thou hadst sold 
 
 Thy love, unblest, for heartless gold." 
 
 The aged Priest, with hands outspread, 
 
 Then showered blessings on their head ; 
 
 And so we'll leave Alberta, fair, 
 
 The Countess of the castle there. 
 
NOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 1 " Saint Bernard's silvery tongue, aflame, had spread." 
 
 Stanza XVI., line 2. 
 
 The Second Crusade, a.d. 1142-48, owed its origin almost 
 entirely to the glowing eloquence of St. Bernard, Abbot of 
 Clairvaugh. Himself aroused to tears by the sorrows, mis- 
 fortunes, and dangers of Jerusalem (then in the hands of 
 the Christians), he visited France, Germany, and the sur- 
 rounding countries, preaching a Crusade with unbounded 
 success. 
 
 2 u The Cross ! the Cross ! and, let what would betide." 
 
 Stanza xvn., line 2. 
 
 It is told in the history of Bernard how, on one occasion, 
 surrounded by a vast multitude of nobles and people, the 
 throng, moved by his eloquence, broke out in one unceasing 
 shout, " It is the will of God ! it is the will of God !" min- 
 
 133 
 
134 NOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 
 
 gled with the demand for " The Cross ! the Cross I" and 
 that the Abbot, on account of his supply of the sacred em- 
 blems being insufficient for the demand, tore his clothing, 
 and that of several persons who surrounded him, in strips 
 for crosses, to satisfy the clamoring crowd. 
 
 3 " For none at Ratisbon, on Danube's shore." 
 
 Stanza xxiii., line 7. 
 
 The French Crusaders gathered, under Louis VII. , at the 
 city of Metz, while the Germans, under Conrad III., made 
 Ratisbon, on the Danube, their rendezvous. But from the 
 adjacent countries the warriors, in many instances, found 
 their way into Asia by sea from the ports of England, Flan- 
 ders, and Italy. 
 
 4 u Of helpless innocence would oft resound." 
 
 Stanza xxvi., line 7. 
 
 During these wars the lower classes in immense numbers, 
 actuated by superstitious zeal, left their huts, with their 
 entire families, and joined their fate as camp-followers with 
 the Crusade forces, hoping by that means to gain the bless- 
 ing of a sacred pilgrimage. According to the report of a 
 contemporary, when Conrad's army started, " it was so 
 numerous the waves were not sufficient to transport it, nor 
 the fields spacious enough to contain all its battalions." 
 
XOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 135 
 
 5 "Armed like the Amazons of fable fame." 
 
 Stanza XXVII., line 5. 
 
 The example of Eleanor of Aquitaine. queen of Louis YII. 
 of France, in taking the cross, was eagerly followed by a 
 large number of women, who, armed with sword and lance, 
 formed themselves in companies, and who, in return, were 
 followed by many adventurous Knights. It was on this 
 Crusade Louis, forced by her scandalous conduct, abandoned 
 his queen, who afterwards married Henry II. of England, 
 and became, by him, the mother of Richard Coeur de Lion 
 and John. 
 
 6 "A sheen, as though with gold the city was o'erlaid." 
 
 Stanza xxxn., line 9. 
 
 One of the early chroniclers says of Constantinople: 
 " AVhen they perceived those high walls and large towers so 
 near each other, with which it was furnished all round, and 
 those rich and superb palaces and churches rising above all, 
 and in such great numbers that they could not easily believe 
 they saw them with their eyes.*' 
 
 7 "The city's walls, with many a massive tower." 
 
 Stanza xxxm., line 5. 
 
 It is not an easy task to give anything like an exact de- 
 scription of this great city prior to its sieges and sacks of 
 
136 XOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 
 
 the Middle Ages. But from the descriptions of those who 
 saw its magnificence, it is described as being surrounded by 
 a double wall of more than seven leagues in circumference. 
 These walls, with their ponderous towers, were often com- 
 pared to those of Babylon. 
 
 8 " While planning dark and deep the doom of those he feared." 
 
 Stanza xxxiv., line 9. 
 
 Manuel Comnenus, the ruling sovereign of the effeminate 
 Eastern Empire, shared much the terror of his people as the 
 reckless host of Conrad arrived beneath their walls. In the 
 Greek councils, we are told, they described "the warriors 
 of the West as men of iron, whose eyes darted flames, and 
 who shed torrents of blood with the same indifference as 
 they would pour out the same quantity of water." The 
 crafty Manuel, while deceiving Conrad by the most hypo- 
 critical demonstrations of friendship, fortified his capital, 
 and formed an alliance with the Turks. An old chronicler, 
 Odo du Deuil, refuses to mention Manuel's name, becausj, 
 he says, " His name is not written in the book of life." 
 
 9 " Were filled with art. 'Twas ere destruction's blaze." 
 
 Stanza xxxv., line 5. 
 
 Constantinople, which had, up to the beginning of the 
 thirteenth century, sustained itself amid the wrecks of sev- 
 
XOTES TO EUPHRASIA. J 37 
 
 eral empires, had collected within its walls the choicest relics 
 of ancient art. ?nd it was with much pride they displayed 
 their wealth in the masterpieces of Egypt, Greece, and Rome. 
 Among those works were some of the best productions of 
 Praxiteles and Phidias. 
 
 10 " He saw great Juno, Jove's imperial queen." 
 
 Stanza xxxvu., line 1. 
 
 Nicetas Choniates, a contemporary Greek chronicler, in 
 deploring the destruction of so much sublime art, leaves 
 quite a history of what would otherwise have been lost. He 
 mentions a colossal statue of Juno, that stood in the square 
 of Constantine, and which had once adorned her temple at 
 Samos. After the figure had been taken to pieces, " four 
 pair of oxen,*' he says, "were required to drag the head 
 alone to the melting house," where the metal was cast into 
 crude pieces of money. 
 
 n u That seated Hercules, of giant span." 
 
 Stanza xxxviii., line 2. 
 
 A bronze colossal of Hercules, which " Heyne attributes 
 to Lysippus ; he thinks it is the same as the colossal of 
 Tarentum, which was brought to Rome and placed in the 
 Capitol. From this city it went to Constantinople, with ten 
 
138 NOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 
 
 other statues, under the consulate of Julian and the reign 
 of Constantine." The figure is described as sitting on a bed 
 of osier 5 his left knee supported his elbow, while his head 
 meditatingly rested upon the palm of his hand. The old 
 description, besides its enthusiasm over the masterly work- 
 manship, gives some idea of its gigantic proportions when 
 it says, " The cord which went round his thumb was long 
 enough for a common man's girdle, and that with which 
 his leg was measured was equal in length to the height of 
 a man." 
 
 12 " An ob'lisk one, — where in sublime array- 
 He saw how art had left its cultured trace." 
 
 Stanza xxxix., lines 3 and 4. 
 
 Nicetas, in his transport, asks, "Whoever beheld without 
 admiration that square obelisk of bronze, the height of 
 which was equal to that of the loftiest column?" Then, 
 after describing with ecstasy the exquisite beauty of the 
 work, wrought in basso-relievo upon its sides, he says, " At 
 the top of this square obelisk, which terminated in a pyra- 
 midal form, was placed a female figure, which turned with 
 the least breath of wind, whence she was called the slave 
 of the wind." 
 
NOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 139 
 
 13 u There Helen stood, whose fault made Ilium wail." 
 
 Stanza XL., line 3. 
 
 In referring to this statue, we cannot do better than treat 
 the reader to its description in part, as given by the enrap- 
 tured Xicetas : "What shall I say of Helen, with arms 
 whiter than snow, with small, delicate feet, and a bosom 
 of alabaster. . . . She whose beauty charmed every spec- 
 tator, whose robing was magnificent, who. although of 
 bronze, was of delicious languor, and who. even to her 
 tunic, her veil, her diadem, and her elegantly arranged 
 hair, appeared to respire the very spirit of voluptuousness. 
 . . . Her lips slightly separated, like the cup of a rose, 
 appeared ready to breathe soft and pleasant words, whilst 
 her inexpressibly sweet smile seemed, in a manner, to meet 
 the spectator, and fill him with delicious emotion. But 
 language cannot describe or transmit to posterity the charm 
 of her look, the arch, so exquisitely marked, of her eye- 
 brows, or the graces which adorned her person." 
 
 u "They perished when rude men in mortal hate 
 Came with the torch, in fierce, relentless war.'' 
 
 Stanza xli., lines 7 and 8. 
 
 The burning and sacking of this great imperial city, 
 referred to in these lines, occurred about a.d. 1200, during 
 
140 NOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 
 
 the Fifth Crusade, when shrewd old Dandolo, Doge of 
 Venice, formed an alliance with the armies of the West, and 
 by his skill diverting them from their original intention, 
 made war with their combined forces on Constantinople. 
 After the fall the most outrageous vandalism prevailed. 
 The Crusaders desecrated the shrines, pillaged the tombs, 
 and plundered the people. It was their insatiate greed of 
 gain that made Nicetas, the Grecian Jeremiah, so graphically 
 recount the world's loss, as he bewailed the art splendors of 
 the place. In denouncing the avarice of the Occidentals, he 
 tells how all these magnificent bronzes, the masterpieces 
 collected along the centuries, were melted and cast into 
 money to satisfy a barbaric soldiery. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 1 " When they beheld the Taurus Mountains trace 
 Their lofty summits on the distant skies, 
 Where Treachery had planned its heartless sacrifice." 
 
 Stanza xi., lines 7, 8, and 9. 
 
 The perfidy of the Grecian Emperor soon became manifest 
 to the Germans ; for scarcely had their host passed the Bos- 
 phorus before they found themselves the victims of all sorts 
 
NOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 141 
 
 of treachery. Those who straggled from the army were 
 slain by the soldiers of Manuel. The gates of all the 
 cities throughout their route were closed against them 5 and 
 when desiring provisions of a place, the Germans were 
 forced to put their money in baskets lowered from the 
 walls, for which they often received but insults in return. 
 The climax, however, was not reached until their false 
 guides, given for that purpose, led them in the denies of 
 Mount Taurus, and there left the despairing multitude to 
 the merciless sword of Islam. 
 
 2 " Against the onset of the turban-flood, 
 
 Which seemed beneath his sword to melt away." 
 
 Stanza xviii., lines 3 and 4. 
 
 Conrad received two arrow-wounds in that terrible rout ; 
 but finally, after the retreat toward Constantinople, found, 
 with a remnant of followers, his way to the Holy Land. In 
 order to give the reader some idea of the Emperor's prowess, 
 we quote from Robson's translation of Michaud the account 
 of his daring valor before Damascus : 
 
 "It was then the Emperor of Germany signalized his 
 bravery by a deed of arm worthy of the heroes of the First 
 Crusade. . . . Xothing could resist the impetuosity of his 
 attack, all who opposed him falling beneath his arm, when 
 a Saracen of gigantic stature, and completely clothed in 
 
142 XOTES TO EUPHRASIA. 
 
 armor, advanced to meet him, and defy him to combat. The 
 Emperor at once accepted the challenge, and flew to meet 
 the Mussulman warrior. At sight of this singular combat 
 the two armies remained motionless, waiting in fear till one 
 of the champions had defeated the other to recommence the 
 battle. The Saracen warrior was soon hurled from his 
 horse, and Conrad, with one blow of his sword, dealt on 
 the shoulder of the Mussulman, divided his body, into two 
 parts." 
 
 THE EXD.