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 * EDE^nT^: 
 
 0312,, 
 
 THE BOOM OF THE BRIDE 
 
 u&^lSTlD 
 
 HER EOVE 
 
 A VERSE ROMAHCE III FOUR CANTOS. 
 
 BY SAM. FRANK PARKS. 
 
 KNOXVILLE, TENN. : 
 
 PELNTBD JLT TJIB FEEB8 AND HERALD BOOK AND JOB PRINTINa OFFICE 
 
 1872. 
 

 T^-^ 
 
 Entered accorrling to Act of Congi-e«s In the year 1873, by 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
FRBSBMTilkTIOH. 
 
 To THE Citizens op Ducktown and Vicinity, 
 
 (Whom the Author would eveu and Kindly Remember.) 
 
 By whose Subscriptions and Generous Assistajsce 
 
 Its Publications was Secured, 
 
 This Volume is most Gratfully Presented. 
 
OA-ISTTO I. 
 
 L 
 
 The Bun reclines upon the wave, 
 Where yon resplendent waters lave 
 Hie burnished brow, and gilding throw 
 Their hue tints o'er his couch ai^low, 
 As- 'thwart the hesper sphere arise 
 His beam-winged glories to the skies : 
 Tint floatings — where the cloudlet glints 
 In crimson and in saffron tints 
 Suffusing — but more pale they seem, 
 Yet, now, dies out the last low beam, 
 In fadings fast, that breaking, stray 
 To fainter streaks against the gray 
 Of the west heav'ns and cea^e to play. 
 II. 
 But moving up, the crested star 
 Is glinting in her vaulied car, 
 And gems with softly lantbent ray 
 The dew-fresh flower and the spray, 
 Which sleeping in her jewelled beams, 
 Reflect the realms of peace and dreams, 
 Which lie in mystic shades concealed, 
 And never yet to heart revealed, 
 But in imaginings which tell 
 Where only bright ideals dwell. 
 And hanging o'er the eastern hill, 
 The moon is looking sad and still, 
 So pensively like maiden fair 
 Heart warm with love but free fVom care — 
 
6 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Whose pure, fair heaving breast alone 
 Conceals the dream it would not own. 
 
 III. 
 
 It is the witch time when the dew 
 Begems each bloom with richest hue, 
 And wakes that power of love whose sway 
 Is all unknown to chaste-eyed day. 
 It is the time when lovers sigh 
 With beating heart to answering eye, 
 15eneath the moon's affloant glow, 
 But meet to part, alas, in woe I 
 
 IV. 
 And naught but sounds of softest notd 
 Upon the air re-mellowed float: 
 Symphonious tones, the residue 
 Of what blest Paradise once knew. 
 When Earth was young and pure and fair, 
 TJngloomed by woe, unseared by care, 
 And Hearen, more near from gates of bliss, 
 Flashed glory o'er the realms of this. 
 Yet distant roars the mountain flood. 
 Vexing the silence of the wood, 
 And with a deep and wrathful sound 
 Goes plunging through the gorge profound. 
 And o'er the high and shadowed steeps 
 Into the foaming vortex leaps. 
 But hero 'tis calm, and o'er the lea 
 It smoother flows but yet as freej 
 But yonder, where the currents swerve, 
 Eobending with a sudden curve 
 The high projection of the bank, 
 O'er gloomed by oaks and willows dank, 
 A castle roars its turrets gray, 
 Round which the slanting moon beams play, 
 Eoflecting from the dome on high 
 Th' unechoed rays back to the sky. 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 
 
 The vines hang greenly on the wall, 
 Extending o'er the windows taH-.- 
 And through their leaves the breath of night 
 Tones soft as shadowings of light, ^ 
 
 And seems their music but the tone 
 The beauteous voice of Love might own. 
 The shaded lawn extends before 
 And onward from the feudal door, 
 While here and there the shrubl^ery frtands 
 Approving grace of woman's hunda. 
 
 V. 
 So love'y in that spot and home, 
 Ye scax'ce would deem that aught could ro&m 
 Abcut its shrine, but virtue's feet, 
 And jViy and happiness complete. 
 But is it so? ah, who can tell, 
 That ever 'neath the same roof dwell 
 The good and beautiful ? Oh, 'tis rare 
 To find them joined but only there ! 
 Or that most pure which seems most fair ! 
 And yonder, whare ye think should reign 
 Pure Happiness and all her train, 
 Do Virtue and the Stainless twine 
 Above the couch the nuptial vine ? 
 Does Purity by Honor led 
 Stand sleeplessly to guard the bed? 
 Or does the altar yet remain 
 Untarnished by the iulsome stuin ? 
 Does healthful slumber hover b}', 
 To dew with balm the conscious eye? 
 That watches, and must match tho while, 
 To catch the frown or cull the smile, 
 And weigh the doubtful bhades which cbaso 
 Each other o'er the thoughtful face. 
 
 VI. 
 Edeha is alone — she sighs. 
 
8 edena; or, the doom 
 
 And through the gloomitii;' twilight pries 
 
 And look.-) afar, as if siio eou^'ht 
 
 The image of her hidden thought; 
 
 Her else fair brovv is now more pale, 
 
 Snffasod by passion's hectic veil, 
 
 But \i has changed since set of sail ; 
 
 Yet in short apace such change is won— 
 
 Her lij^s retain their wanted flush, 
 
 Through which their pulsefiil breathings gush, 
 
 And o'er her cheek lich beauty tbrowrf 
 
 Voluptuous by its varied gh)w.-<, 
 
 That Idooming there S) well display 
 
 Her native charms in *'ull array. 
 
 But why is now this wild disrest 
 
 That galls the stillness of her breast? 
 
 Why yot do sighs unfettered roll 
 
 From the far eeriter of her soul ? 
 
 Why now has slumber Irora her gone? 
 
 Why sit.-! she by the casement h)ne? 
 
 And why dots anxious deep emotion 
 
 Bodrug her bosom with its poiion ? 
 
 Alas, that restlessness an(i care 
 
 Should trouble one so nobly fair ! 
 
 VII. 
 Bat now in motion's native grace, 
 She rises from tb' unguarded place. 
 And S'dtly moves as if in ft-ar 
 Oi es};ionage inclining near; 
 The ycl'ow wavelets of ht-r hair 
 Fall ri'.-hly o'er her shoulders there, 
 Like strands of gold which polished sliine 
 In brilliancj' of tints divine, 
 And parting neatly o'er her brow 
 Seem racetcst shrine for lover's vow ; 
 And ht r full bosom, neat and v^hite, 
 As faii-est flower richly bright, 
 
OF TPIE BRIDE AND HER LOVEE. 9 
 
 Seems ardent in its wistful swell, 
 As any that ero rose and fell 
 To fee ins<'8 pul*-e or surging roir;ed 
 To paKsiosi's wild storm unassuaged. 
 No rounds strike on ber ear — but far 
 The wild 1 udc vass.il'rt wordy w;ir, 
 Or strain of warder's ballad note, 
 Or wind-vrakcd waters in the moat — 
 Yet ail unceriain, inidefinod, 
 The veiled intentions of her nnind — 
 As shifting breoze^ come and go 
 Yet uni)rophetic whore they blow — 
 But scarce a moment has she stood 
 In her uncertainty of mood, 
 As the resolve mounts to her eye 
 All fate, all chances to defy ; 
 The stealing flush, that spreads apace, 
 The rich carnation of her face. 
 The reeolution of her will 
 Betrays, and dares her fortune still. 
 So the fair queen of Carthat-e felt, 
 When Juno and soft Venus dealt 
 The charm that for( ed her heart to melt. 
 VIII. 
 Now o'er her shoulders soft she throws, 
 A scarf of rich contrasting glows 
 And woof, enveloping her form, 
 As shield against the night dew's harm. 
 And softly as a bloom leaf falls, 
 She threads her way along the halls, 
 Throws hurriedly around her eyes 
 To guard against the quick surprise ; 
 
 And — she has reached the postern door — 
 "With trembling hand — the bolt she turns, 
 And stepping lightly on the ground, 
 She gazes cautiously around. 
 
10 EDENA ; OR, THE DOOM 
 
 Tumultuously her bosom bums, 
 
 But it has oft the same before. 
 Why does the lady at such hour, 
 Desert her hall and castle bower ? 
 To walk the shadows of the night. 
 Or view the moon's rich wealth of light ? 
 It is because she loves to gaze 
 Upon the stj.rlight's holy blaze? 
 Is it because the breeze of clew 
 May fan her Hushing temple's hue ? 
 Ye know not thac, nor may ye tell, 
 What thoughts beneath her bosom swell. 
 She but a moment pauses now, 
 
 To re-arrange her wealth of hair, 
 And train its graces o'er her brow, 
 
 In richer luxury and fair. 
 And pride might well forgive tlie grace, 
 Whose neat, artistic skill could trace, 
 
 With nicest touch, th' adornment there. 
 
 IX. 
 
 With careful eye she views the ground 
 In hasty glances sweeping round. 
 As fearful lest obstructions dire. 
 Dispel the dream of her desire. 
 Or lest the guard's officious feet 
 Upon the way, her own should meet. 
 
 Too suddenly for her retreat ; 
 
 But all is still, such sound nor sight, 
 
 Appalts up >n the quiet night. 
 And soft, with motion's native grace 
 She glides forth from her sentry place, 
 Away — as wind-borne bloom she hies. 
 Or beautiful as the moonbeam flies. 
 Now in the shades she 'scapes the sight, 
 And now emerges to the light, 
 
 And now she glances by yon flower, 
 
And now beneath the summer's bower, 
 But — pausing now she stands before 
 The entrance of yon arbor door, 
 And gazes with a trepid air. 
 Upon the checkered shadows there, 
 As if she wish, yet^fears to see 
 Her bosomed hope's reality ; 
 And list ye not her tones, which seem 
 The cadence of love's watchword dream ; 
 As her soft voice falls sweetly clear, 
 And rich to ravage the full ear — 
 Or as the witch like lute that flings 
 Such melody from sacred strings : — 
 " Dear Ulwi>n^, rouse thee, I am here." 
 X. 
 Behold, what now is that ye see ? 
 Her lover bending low his knee, 
 As one who'^bows before the throne 
 Of soeptered queen to claim his own. 
 But rising now in eager haste, 
 He clasps her glowing 'round the waist, 
 Exulting in his ecstacy. 
 That he can view her now so nigh, 
 And on her full ripe lips to seal 
 And beautiful, his love's true kiss. 
 Exhilarating in its bliss. 
 More truthful in its grace divine 
 Than flowing wave of priest blest wine. 
 And givmg the embrace, they feel 
 Eleotrio fires through them steal. 
 XI. 
 And Ulwii^ thus : (such is his name 
 / ■ I ' \ ■ he came,)- 
 
 Speaks ardently with fondest sigh. 
 As gazing in her volumed eye. 
 And manly-like, his voice endears 
 
12 edena; or, tke doom 
 
 Its cadence on her tensive ears — 
 " Eden'A, dearest, ever dear ! 
 True to thy token art thou here. 
 Once more I clasp thee to my heart, 
 Of which thou art the best true part ; 
 But for thy smile 'twould cease to beat, 
 Thrown cold and pulseless at thy feet. 
 A mass of moulding ruins passed 
 To that dark change, which is its last I 
 Yet, if I may but claim thy smile, 
 I reck not for all else the while — 
 Could only have thy breast recline 
 And pulse and glow on this of mine — 
 I love to feel its heave and trill. 
 Which makes my own so wildly thrill 
 "With a deep throb and bounding gliiw 
 That lulls my else enburdened woe. 
 Oh, bless thee, dear, that thou art come 
 To claim my heart, thy own, own home 
 But yet, I thought an age had passed, 
 So eager was I f ir thy clasp. 
 To hear again thy l'»w, sweet voice, 
 Not ev'n the smaller of my joys. 
 And with these wistful eyes of mine 
 Gaze in the gemmy depths of thine, 
 An incarnation of tlie dyes 
 Which beautify the star-lit skies. 
 But thou art here, I cannot chide 
 Thee, love, my glory and my pride, 
 Thy presence and thy smiles repay 
 The lingeringa of thy delay.'' 
 He ceases, and with clasp of bliss 
 Embraces her with heart's true kiss. 
 
 XII. 
 Now fair Edeit a in return. 
 Speaks thus in words that tone to burn — • 
 
" Dear ULwm, if I could have liasted, 
 One moment sweet I had not wasted, 
 But long ere this had sought thy face, 
 Its long loved lineaments to trace, 
 And catch the echo of thy tones, 
 Which but my bosom only owns, 
 
 As token of supernal grace. 
 But fear of Udo's vengel'ul ire 
 Chilled all the burnings of dtsire; 
 But yet, oh, never paled the beam 
 That rays the token of my dream. 
 This morn, Lord Udo sought the chase, 
 To be returned by noon apace. 
 But if not come by eventide, 
 He would to castle Norman ride, 
 
 Accompanied by all his train, 
 
 He should not then return again, 
 
 Until the morrow's sun bad strode 
 The highest circle of his road : 
 
 I fear he m<iy not eo abide. 
 
 But home by night his journey make, 
 
 And find his ill-assorted bride, 
 Had left him for another's sake. 
 
 Alas ! that he should come — his wrath^ 
 Like head-long vengeance, on its path, 
 
 Would burst upon thy head and mine: 
 
 Oh, I'd not have it fall on thine." 
 XIIL 
 
 But Ulwin, as his arm is thrown 
 
 In pride about her j'ielding zone, 
 
 Thus speaks — each word falls true and warm 
 
 As the compression of his arm — 
 
 "Fear thee not, my own, should the pall 
 
 Of death upon thy bosom fall — 
 
 Survive 1 not the victim blow 
 
 The curst essential of its woe — 
 
 :_! 
 
14 edena; oe, the doom 
 
 The separation that mast como 
 If thou shouldst lie inane below, 
 
 Thy sweet blesst lips dishued and dumb- 
 But let that pass, why shouldst thou fear? 
 Or dream disclosing dangers near? 
 'Tis but a phanton, bid it speed ! 
 Joy be our pleasure and our meed ; 
 Dost not remember many an hour 
 "We two have met within this bowtr ? 
 And the far night together passed, 
 Delayiiig our parting to the last ; 
 Met we have oft together, yet 
 In safety parted as we met ; 
 Then bid thy glooming fears depart, 
 
 Call back and wreathe thy smi'es again, 
 They have such magic o'er my heart. 
 
 To Wght its gloom and lull its pain. 
 Beyond the reach of guile and art. 
 
 And will while thou sbalt live to reign." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And sweet Edena thus the while 
 Speaks with all heart-bewitching smile: 
 " Then thus it be, I would not mar 
 One ray of pleasure's love-lit star— ^ 
 Yet some presentiment but tells 
 That ruin o'er our meeting dwells, 
 I feel it in my bosom, yet 
 AH danger near thee I forget, 
 What ere the danger thou may'st meet, 
 I ehall not shrink its frown to greet. 
 But would bear all and suffer more. 
 For thine own sake than heart ere bore." 
 She ceases, and her mellow notes 
 Retire, like as soft music floats 
 From some enchanted mermaid's shore. 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 15 
 
 xy. 
 
 And UlwI'V gives her no reply, 
 But the toned language of a sigh 
 And admiration of his cje, 
 But in that oj e with passion fraught, 
 Edena sees an answer wrought, 
 Such answering as pleases well, 
 
 And on her tensive^heart it falls 
 With mightiness of charming Sjell — 
 But, hist, the voice of Ulwin calls. 
 And soothes her warmly glowing there, 
 As with light hand he strokes her hair, 
 
 And smooths the precious tresses down, 
 More bright than ever art or scheme 
 Could have applied a richer sheen 
 Than nature has, though nice the care, 
 Or tingod it with more golden brown. 
 XYI. 
 *' Edena, sweet, the hour has come, 
 When we must flee to my own homo ; — 
 A dream I long have pondered o'er, 
 And dearer when schemes thought the more— 
 'Tis madness worse to dare the hour, 
 Which must beiray us to the power 
 Of one who will avenge the shame 
 He'd feel reflected on his name ; 
 The hour has won its tide and we — 
 But I'll not live bereft of thee, 
 I Could not bear that grief of heart 
 And crushing woe, that we must part. 
 But death were best — and should I die, 
 Oh, let it be beneath ttiino eye I 
 With none but this blest band of thine 
 To soothe this failing heart of mine — 
 That I with dimming eyes may trace 
 The tinted love hues ot thy face. 
 
16 edena; oe, the doom 
 
 Lu-juAr ' Vw^ . 
 
 But while I live, but one desire, 
 
 My heai-t's wide wish, one thought alone, 
 My dreams, my hopes, my being fire, 
 'Tis this — to call ihee all my own ; 
 Oh, mu'<t I claim but half thy heart, 
 Surrendering the other part? 
 When from thy head a single hair, 
 Would challenge a'l my fonder care. 
 Thy love, thy t-mile, to mo more worth 
 Than fairest province of all earth, 
 Tho lustre of thy jeweled eye, 
 Than purest tint that goms the sky, 
 In nature's beauty, and thy sigh 
 Like melody's diviaest lone, 
 Mnre sweet than symphony might own. 
 Qr.een of my heart, Ebena dear, 
 To my petition bend thy ear ; 
 Come flee we to the star of isles, 
 That in the royal Ocean smiles — 
 A flashing gem amid the wave, 
 The heritage my father gave ; 
 Where I my first young began 
 Bcnca'h the shades of Casile Whago. 
 Whoso willing clans and vassal troop 
 Submissive to thy wish will stoop, 
 Exulting in their joy of pride 
 To recogn'ze Lord Ulwin"s bride : 
 Oh, wilt thou not for me decide? 
 Beshrew me, why shouldst thou decline I 
 Li heart and bosom thou art mine. 
 From that blest hour as even now, 
 When we first joined th' unbroken vow. 
 And I have sufiered much and sore. 
 Ah, me, too much to wish it more ! 
 And to assume my rightful claim, 
 Have staked existence and thy fame — 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 17 
 
 To lose thee now, and after all, 
 'Twere worse than burning draughts of gall 
 Poured lava-like, in floods to roll 
 Submersive o'er my broken soul." 
 
 XVII. 
 Edeita hears him to the last — 
 Her arms about his neck are passed, 
 And eays in accents sweet and clear, 
 Which thrill his deepest heart to hear : 
 " Ah ! Ulwi2T ! canst thou read the heart 
 Unschooled by wiles, unskilled to art ? 
 This heart, which only holds thee dear, 
 And faster beats when thou art near — 
 
 And if thou can in reading trace 
 One single thought, one furtive line, 
 Not all for thee, not wholly thine. 
 
 That thought, that line, I bid erase, 
 And write thy name, thy image there, 
 And nothing from its place shall tear 
 The blest remembrance — naught but death, 
 And even at my parting breath, 
 Thy mem'ry shall new strength impart, 
 To animate my failing heart. 
 I, where thou art, can happy be. 
 And grief is joy if shared with thee; 
 And all with thee, is greater bliss 
 If it be graced but with thy kiss. — 
 I'll flee with thee were e'er thou wilt. 
 
 Where brightly gleam the Ocean isles, 
 Or Alpine has his temples built. 
 
 Or where the bright hued summer smiles ; 
 Thy home shall be the home of mine, 
 In desert waste or bloomy clime — 
 Thou art the only one that lives, 
 To whom ray heart allegiance gives — 
 My lover and my lord — I yield 
 
To thee my solace and my shield. 
 My refuge and defense, whose arm 
 Shall shelter me from hate's alarm. 
 
 On thy brave breast my heart's retreat — 
 As this strong tree with bracing boughs 
 
 Shields from the storm and siroc's heat, 
 Yon blue bell, which confiding bows 
 
 And nestles at liis guardian feet, 
 And seems to glow in tints arrayed 
 More fair and sweet beneath his shade, 
 Thus would I live — this shall I give, 
 In truthfulness while I may live. 
 But straightway shall I plan for flight ; 
 And when will fall the next love's night, 
 "We'll meet again beneath this bower, 
 Be then thou here at midnight's hour." 
 She ceases, and her lute voice clear, 
 Falls chiming on bold ULWijq''s ear — 
 So dies away the mellow note. 
 Heard distant, from the Spring dove's throat. 
 XVIII. 
 
 And Ulavi]^', clasping her amain 
 To his wild breast with warmest strain, 
 Thus answers, and his passioned soul 
 Through all his language seems to roll : — 
 
 " Oh, happy life is mine this night ! 
 My heart swells with such bursts of joy, 
 And thrills with such a wild delight — 
 To know that thou art all, all mine — 
 As life and soiil I am but thine : 
 But yet obstruction may destroy 
 
 My new blown hopes, e'er they have birth^ 
 For such e'er now has been my fate, 
 And now upon me may await. 
 
 To crush them to the lowest earth — 
 Yet I shall risk my life to win — 
 
OF THE BKIDE AND HER LOVER. 19 
 
 Scarce worse can come than now has been. 
 Nor darker curse can fall, lest it be death, 
 And forfeiture of anxious breath, 
 
 Which I biit culture for thy sake — 
 But it were worth the cast of life 
 
 To win Edeivta, the fair Stake 
 Of this deep game, and pain and stroke, 
 And wrecking flood, and battle smoke. 
 The life-gauged struggle in the strife, 
 I'd gladly meet, and hatred's flame, 
 If dear Eden^ a's self and love I thus may claim. 
 
 XIX. 
 He ceases and his voice retires 
 
 Within his proudly heaving breast ; 
 But high that passioned voice inspires 
 
 The only one he loves the best, 
 But she speaks not, her bosom's swp]] 
 Says more than all her thoughts can tell, 
 And her raised eyes which beam and shine, 
 Than tropes and tones in words divine, 
 While in their warm exultings glance 
 The promises which most enhance. 
 And Ulwln takes Edena's hand. 
 
 That hand so soft and neatly fair. 
 Of all the ladies in the land 
 
 A lovelier one they none may wear ; 
 And through the trees with equal pace 
 The windings they together trace. 
 Or move along like specters pale 
 That silent stalk within the vale; 
 Abright the moon in silver dressed, 
 Enameling the hillock's crest, 
 
 Throws full around the mountain's height 
 
 A coronal of lambent light — 
 
 Regalia of the gem-decked night. 
 The flowers on the sward below, 
 
20 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Shine with subdued and softened glow, 
 Reflecting the tear-pearls they weep 
 Like sighs that love hearts wont to keep. 
 The oak kings of the forest waving there, 
 Sway their green chapl»ets in the air ; 
 Re-casting far their shadows deep 
 O'er rugged crags or gorges steep, 
 Or on the level plains extend 
 Their dark shadows, which together blend- 
 While far away the bird of the hill 
 Sends his sweet music o'er the rill, 
 Waking harmony's lonely trill, 
 "Which charms the ear that listens long 
 To his deep plaintivenesb of song, 
 But yet seems boding on that ear 
 Of prophecy averse and drear. 
 
 XX. 
 And in the light, now in the shade, 
 Those two upon their way parade, 
 In varied converse — suoh as ye 
 Have felt in love's felicity. 
 "Which even now, through all the years, 
 Green blooming mem'ry still endears ; 
 Like mellow music are her tones, 
 His voice the softest cadence owns — 
 But drawing near yon glinting lake, 
 Upon its beach their stations take. 
 "With love illumined eyes they sweep 
 Its bosom, where the moonbeams sleep, 
 Or water-flowers on its marge, 
 That scom so like for elfin barge. 
 Amid the tree-tops from above, 
 The stars look down upon their love, 
 Enshrined and faithful and so true. 
 Oh, where a warmer may ye view. 
 Than thoee two hearts, which only live 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOYBR, 21 
 
 For what they each receive and give ? 
 The nutriment which both supply, 
 They feast upon or else they die. 
 'Tis thus they muse— and who has not, 
 In their love days? and ne'er forgot, 
 Ah, never could, the hour, the scene. 
 
 That first awoke their young heart's dream, 
 Which in the withered past still green, 
 
 Shine on them like the spring's first beam, 
 A bright young bud 'midst all the dead 
 And sere-struck leaves of years long fled. 
 
 XXI. 
 The scene is changed — a cloudlet flies 
 Athwart the bright vault of the skies, 
 That throws a momentary gloom 
 Upon the lakelet and the bloom. 
 And ca&ts a palling shadow there, 
 Prophetic of the heart's despair. 
 For where does sorrow fold its wing. 
 But over wrecked hopes withering ? 
 The deepest grief is not expressed, 
 But builds fierce fires in the breast, 
 Where all its concentrated heat, 
 Though smothered, may more fiercely eat, 
 And the poor heart thus doomed to pain, 
 May not resist to risk again. 
 Upon Edena's forehead fraught, 
 Are images of deeper thought, 
 As if the shades of long gone years. 
 With all their hopes and dreams and fears, 
 Were gliding still and solemn by 
 Before her retrospective eye. 
 And memory is busy now 
 Beneath her beauteousness of l)row. 
 What be her thoughts, ye may not tell — 
 
 Perchance regret for honor gone, 
 
22 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Perchance because she loves too well 
 The heart she has no claim upon ; 
 What be her thoughts ye may have known 
 In some marked hour past and flown ; 
 Such thoughts perchance we all must feel, 
 Or later, 'neath their power reel ; 
 But yet withal by hope enrayed, 
 By which the bosom undismayed, 
 The darker glooms of woe may bear, 
 Yet find a pleasure haply there, 
 The pleasure that this erring life 
 Is not a maze with darkness rife ; 
 For hope, bloom-like, is there enshrined, 
 The green oasis of the mind, 
 "Whose far-viewed promise ever gives, 
 Glad to the visioh while it lives. 
 But Ulwin speaks and breaks the spell 
 That on her heart hangs dark and fell — 
 "Well pleased i-he is withal to hear 
 His accents fall upon her ear. 
 They have such influence and power 
 To cheer her heart when shadows glower, 
 To soothe her woes, to lull her fears. 
 And wake that dream which most endears. 
 
 XXII. 
 "Edena, dearest, wc shall flee. 
 And haste us to the isle in the sea. 
 There in my own proud feudal home. 
 No more from its green shades to roam — 
 A brighter and a lovelier spot 
 Old ocean's bosom holdeth not; 
 There shall we measure life's fair hours, 
 'Mid hill sceces, dales begemmed with flowers. 
 And tinkling brooks that pebbly ring 
 To birds of bright and pictured wing. 
 Where day comes in with mellow light. 
 
And softer beauties tint the night — 
 My ishmd borne ! yea, but the woe 
 Of passion with its fronz'cd blow, 
 Blasted the loveliest flower there, 
 And withered it beneath its glare. 
 My sister ! ah, I did have one. 
 But long ago her hour was done. 
 How did she fall? not like the bloom 
 That droops in nature to its tomb, 
 And giving out it3 floral breath. 
 Looks beautifull}^ sweet in death. 
 Decaying in its native clirao, 
 At hour mature and long drawn time — 
 But suddenly she passed away, 
 
 As some bright vision from the eye. 
 In the full blush of her young day ; 
 
 Oh, why should beings like her die I 
 Unless it be to make ua know 
 How much such loss will bring us woe — 
 How beautifully good, how dear, 
 To our glad hearts while they be here. 
 Such was Elula, whose life's ray, 
 Gloomed back to woe and quick decay. 
 Bat there is one whose innyr heart 
 Must feel the most convulsive smart 
 Remorse's vengeance ever gave 
 To curse the wrong to deepest grave ; 
 But my revenge — it has begun, 
 And hastens onward to bo done, 
 And though it on its course has run 
 Long time, its goal is nearly won. 
 Though I delay it somewhat yet. 
 Tis the more sure to pay its debt — 
 Aye, I shall dare him with the hilt — 
 Whose blade its foeman's blood has spilt. 
 Till he shall own and curse his ^uilt; 
 
24 edena; or, the doom 
 
 And force his own vile lip to sup 
 A portion of the grief dipt cup ; 
 Aye, till abhorrent he has quatfed 
 The dregs which bitter the last draught, 
 And taint the last drop, e'er it fall, 
 "With cursed and concentrated gall. 
 
 xxni. 
 
 "I shall forego its memory here — 
 It is too darkly sad and drear . 
 But may relate its woe to thee 
 At her blest home in the far sea. 
 My home — thy home, my dreams yet hope — 
 E'er twice the nights have gloomed yon cope : 
 My heart loves not to dwell upon 
 These sorrow's of the long agone, 
 And drag from out their umbered sleep, 
 The thoughts which goad me ev'n to weep, 
 And make my sorrows more than sad, 
 "When now ray heart were light and glad. 
 Near thee, let sad thoughts flee away, 
 And grief dissolve within thy ray; 
 Now sit me here upon this grass, 
 And watoh the hours as they pass — 
 Yet brighter eves — a clearer sky. 
 In mine own isle will bless thine eye, 
 While happier the hours wreathe 
 Time's garlands, and will sweeter breathe 
 Upon thy brow, that ne'er may shine 
 Than now less lovely and divine," 
 He ceases, and his low voice dies beneath. 
 
 XXIV. 
 Vain maiden, hast thou never felt 
 The full rich kiss thy pulses melt? 
 Hast never with a passion glance 
 Enchained the heart as with a trance ? 
 And catched the captive lover's eye 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOTER. 25 
 
 As thou went gliding lightly by ? 
 And threw in one long burning gaze 
 Thy passion's deep concentered blaze — 
 As thy toned voice would sweetly trill 
 Upon the ear with softest thrill — 
 Or more, perchance when day had set, 
 And in the vault the stars have met 
 'Eound Dian in her silver car, 
 And softer like, burns love's watch star — 
 That thou hast wandered to thy bower, 
 To dream alone the dew first hour, 
 When there some gallant brave than wise, 
 Has sought the twilight of thine eyes — 
 Have not thy pulses wildly danced 
 By some strange influence entranced I 
 And by the witch spell power blinded 
 The hasting hour, thou hast not minded — 
 Thy ardent thrilling heart replete 
 
 With thoughts and dreams that glow and burn, 
 While thy warm lips in kisses meet 
 
 The lips that eager to thine turn, 
 And leaning thine own against his face 
 Gav'st back thy self to that embrace, 
 
 For which thy heart may more than yearn, 
 While through thy bosom wildly thrill 
 Emotions strong, that almost kill 
 With their intensity of bliss. 
 Which blinds thy heart to fame like this : 
 And reckless so to ill and pain 
 Thou lov'st, and wouldst be loved again, 
 Nor lookst beyond the hour which gives 
 A joy that but the moment lives, 
 And fades to grief that lingers late 
 To crush with oft repeated weight, 
 Till thou shalt feel thy heart o'erflow 
 With most immedicable woe! 
 
edena; or, the doom 
 
 XXV. 
 
 'Tis thus Edena there reclines 
 
 Upon bold Ulwin's tranced breast ; 
 Aa ho his guarding arm entwines 
 
 Around the form that loves such rest. 
 Oh, let them dream ! ere long the doom 
 Of adverse fare, will o'er them boom, 
 And on the startled midnight gale 
 The lips of love give back a wail I 
 And those proud bosoms which now feel 
 Love's soft warm pulses through them steal, 
 And leap and flutter to its thrill, 
 Sball low in death, lie pale and chill — 
 Unmindful that they once have felt 
 The bright warm ray that beams to melt, 
 Or that their lips ere drank the wave 
 That hope and love and nature gave — 
 Unmindful of the funeral stroke 
 That all those promised tokens broke, 
 And sunk them to unwonted grave. 
 
C^NTO II. 
 I 
 
 Lord Udo from the chase returns, 
 
 Belated by the hour of night : 
 And dimly low the beacon burns, 
 
 Faint and exhaustive to the sight, 
 
 Upon the castle's shadowed height — 
 So pale it rays not with its glow 
 The waters in the fosse below, 
 Just rippling to the breeze's blow, 
 
 Perfumed by those sweet scents that leave 
 
 Some dear blest memory of eve, 
 That in memoriam recall 
 Love scenes by tree or sheltered wall. 
 
 II. 
 Uncouth and rude the armor rings, 
 
 As o'er the moat the vassals throng, 
 But eagerly Lord Udo springs 
 
 From off his chase blown charger strong, 
 And hastens in his joy of pride 
 To the embraces of his bride. 
 'Tis but four moons pince her he's ta'en, 
 And she upon his couch has lain ; 
 And ever beautiful and bright 
 Her graces bloom upon his sight, 
 And even when he's far away 
 Her image burns in rich full ray, 
 ■Reflecting so within his breast 
 As jewel in its shrine may rest. 
 And Udo hastens through the hall, 
 That echoes but to his foot-fall. 
 
28 OF THE BKIDE AND HER LOVER, 
 
 He scarcely heeds th' unwonted gloom 
 That palls the darkness of the room, 
 Where low upon the hearth-stone wide, 
 Th' neglected torch has nearly died, 
 And casts a pale and sickly ray 
 Amid the heaps of ashes gray : 
 He hastens to her neat-draped bower, 
 Where wont she goes at even hour, 
 Not doubting but she must await 
 Her lord in lover's true heart state ; 
 Though tame and passive to his will, 
 He doubts not but she loves him still, 
 And gives that coldness scarce a flame, 
 But deems her heart enshrines love's flame. 
 That as a vestal lamp inured 
 Invisible is brightly burned. 
 
 III. 
 That day, when chasing o'er the wold, 
 He was accost by gipsy bold. 
 Who roughly back his charger reined. 
 And short his headlong course restrained — 
 He thrust into the chieltan's hand 
 A parchment clasp with silken band, 
 And told him in it he might trace 
 The fortunes of his fame and race — 
 Ambiguous and double phrased, 
 Somewhat Lord Udo's wonder raised, 
 Yet deemed the sylvan seer designed 
 On his credulity of mind ; 
 With smile incredulous and brief. 
 He gave the seer his aim's relief, 
 And thrust the parchment in his breast, 
 And forward on his way yet pressed 
 Frowning th' inopportune delay,. 
 For but lightly he might deem 
 Of augury or prophet's dream, 
 
And its impression scarce might stay 
 A moment hast'ning on its way. 
 
 Now Udo reaches his bride's room — 
 But all is veiled in shroud-like gloom, 
 Wilh not a straying ray to trace 
 The faint contour of form or face. 
 He calls her, yet no voice returns, 
 Nor love note on his bosom burns ; 
 But echo from the shrouded room 
 That seems like some foreboding doom — 
 To passing maid he gives his bests, 
 And lighted beam of lamp requests, 
 But lighted lamp's informing beam 
 'Betrays no love bride by itg gleam. 
 All emptily and cold and lone, 
 The uncrimped couch, by glare o'er shone, 
 That glints against the curtains pale, 
 Suggests, but telleth not a tale — 
 In fear lest he some thought betray — 
 He waves tk' attending serfs away. 
 Upon its rail he stays his hands. 
 And by the couch's curtain stands, 
 That couch when it was shared, so soft, 
 So sweet and so attractive, oft 
 And ever yet, when she is there, 
 His honors and his bliss to share. 
 But wherefore is she absent? no 
 Eeply comes from his heart below ; 
 Betide the echo faintly low. 
 That knells its answering — hast thou 
 Yet never with such anxious brow, 
 Searched for such echoes, and so fraught 
 "With all the whirling waves of thought, 
 That seem to heave, and not in vain, 
 All the foundations of thy brain ? 
 
30 OF THE BRIDE AXD HER LONER. 
 
 V. 
 
 Th' unanswered questions gloom and start 
 In volumed weight upon his heart — 
 Until the scene upon the wold, 
 Becalls to mind the gipsy bold, 
 With hurried hand the scroll is wrest 
 Forth from the doublet of his breast — 
 Beneath the lamp's upshooting blaze. 
 On it ho bends his tensive gaze. 
 And reads, in language old and quaint. 
 The meaning, which is dimly paint 
 Ambiguous, in double phrase 
 Contrarious and seeming faint. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " The heart oft' wots not it would wist 
 The forms that umber in its mist, 
 Beshadowing the signs that limn 
 The future in forecastings dim ; 
 And trusted most that it disgrace 
 Its confidence to misplace — 
 And oft know not that it would list — 
 The yearnings in its wall exist. 
 Yet by the urn light of its flame. 
 Emblazoned, it may catch its fame. 
 Or prido reap harvesting of shame * 
 And sheafs of largest woe. 
 
 While yet the prudence of its skill 
 But gurdens failure to fulfill 
 Its broken prophecy of ill. 
 In pain of anguish low." 
 VII. 
 And deep the eye of Udo roads 
 The scroll, and all its warning heeds, 
 But yet uncertain of its strain, 
 Half credulous he reads again, 
 Till darker thouorhts convulse his mind. 
 
edena; or, the doom 31 
 
 Now with intensest feelings blind, 
 Till sure convictions with the force 
 That rises from undoubted source 
 Comes o'er his mind in painful course — 
 
 Compelled to feel — yet would disown — 
 
 His heart's love from her faith has flown ! 
 
 He rushes to the judgment hall, 
 
 That his retainers he may call, 
 
 And loud he blows his bugle shrill, 
 
 That replicating fierce until 
 
 From cope to lowest dungeon stone 
 
 All its returning echoes own. 
 
 The blast upswelling through the halls, 
 
 Eolling, reverberates and calls 
 
 His bold retainers; rushing in 
 
 "With steel shod tread and feudal din. 
 
 And shield and spear and helm and blade, 
 
 Stand in the long dark hall arrayed, 
 
 Eebecking on each other jar. 
 
 The burnished arms rethreaten war. 
 
 In wrathful sounds and mufiied note 
 
 To the dim castle walls remote. 
 
 YIII. 
 
 Lord Udo frowns, yet ho would hide 
 
 His feelings with an air of pride, 
 
 As jealous thoughts of darker shade 
 
 Plunge through bis heart like whetted blade. 
 
 Ah ! jealousy ! thy very name 
 
 Is writ in double burning flame ! 
 
 Thou damning thought, thou gall of hate, 
 
 Thou comeat but to desolate, 
 
 And goadst thy victim till he die 
 
 With his o'erburdened agony. 
 
 Like Java's gloomy tree of death, 
 
 That wilts with pestilential breath 
 
 The fated victim who may go 
 
32 OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 
 
 "Within its blasted vale of woo — 
 So thou dost bear thy victim pale, 
 And laughest at his smothered wail. 
 As the dread serpent which conceals 
 The poison that his wrath reveals, 
 Amid the brske or bush doth lie. 
 To dart upon the victim nigh. 
 That haps to rouse him from his sleep, 
 Convolved about in wily heap, 
 And gives with his envenomed teeth, 
 A stroke that ends perchance in death — 
 So thou, cursed jealousy, doth give 
 A wound that oft forbids to live. 
 
 IX. 
 And Udo feeleth well the weight 
 Of jealouej and maddened hate, 
 
 As that 'curst passion darkly wrings. 
 
 And wolf-like gnaws at his heart strings ; 
 
 Yea, more than horrid viper stings. 
 The armored vassals gather near. 
 But curb the stifled breath for fear; 
 They but just whisper for the dread 
 Of all his vengeance on their head. 
 And cower there like antelope, 
 Unequal with the pard to cope ; 
 And each is fearful of the brand 
 Their chieftain sways in feudal hand. 
 That with broad sweeping vengeance glowers 
 On battle foe or yeoman powers. 
 And oft in bloody feud has shorn 
 The plume of crested knight o'erthrown. 
 But TJdo breaks the stillness now, 
 
 Which hangeth o'er them like the pall, 
 That covereth the icy brow 
 
 And shades the dead in charnal hall ; 
 His voice is like the rise and fall 
 
edena; or, the doom S3 
 
 Of troubled winds at midnight's call, 
 "When autumn's sad, complaining noto 
 Swells muttering and dies remote ; 
 Or like as tones discordant swell 
 Uneven from the broken shell, 
 When unaccustomed fingers sweep 
 Their shadows o'er the chords asleep, 
 And wake the notes that but complain 
 With harsher, inharmonious strain : 
 
 " Edkna ! tell me where is she ! 
 Where does she wander at this hour, 
 
 Thus late her boudoir to forget, 
 And guardiance of sentried tower ? 
 
 What hand has challenged her from me ? 
 Or hapless chance detains her yet? 
 Know ye where is Edena flown. 
 Why now she from her couch is gone, 
 
 To rove the glooms of twilight's jot? 
 Have seen or heard of her retreat, 
 Or the soft echo of her feet ? 
 And answer me, or by this brand, 
 The cross blest to my father's hand, 
 Shall justice and my vengeance call 
 A retribution deep for all." 
 He ceases, and his tones decay 
 And fade In his deep breast away — 
 So the retiring winds subnide. 
 Through the dusk swamps of cypress wide, 
 And gloom away in weird tones, 
 Which tremble as the gray moss moans. 
 
 XI. 
 Now Stanwold from the clan steps front, 
 
 With staid and confidential air ; 
 Of open brow and manners blunt. 
 
 O'er his stern feudal chieftain there 
 An influence he always throws, 
 
And on him Udo may impose 
 Full confidence, and Stanwold's word 
 Hath weight and influence when heard : 
 '•My noble chief" — and his bold tone 
 Is self-sufficient of its own — 
 
 "Some while agone, when oQ the wall, 
 I changed the guard and passed the call, 
 And was returning slow, I heard. 
 It seemed the wing of some night bird, 
 
 And echoes to me strange withal, 
 Fell palpably upon the breeze. 
 But for the shadow of the trees 
 
 And walls, which cast their umbrage strong. 
 No thing distinctive could I see, 
 
 Yet deemed some one was passing on. 
 With stealthy steps upon the lea ; 
 I paused and listened, yet the sound 
 Was died away. I heard no more, 
 And searching carefully the ground, 
 
 I gauged the glade and prospect o'er. 
 No living being was in sight, 
 And silence weighed upon the night. 
 Save the dull footfall, trained and slow, 
 Of guardsmen on the walk below. 
 I judged mo then what I had heard 
 Was but the breeze the night wind stirred. 
 Or timid roe just passiag there. 
 That chance had driven from her lair, 
 But now it seems to me more clear. 
 It was a passing footstep near, 
 Solicitous to dull the sound 
 Which over threatens from the ground, 
 As the pale fleeing captive creeps. 
 Lest he should wake the guard that sleeps." 
 
 XII. 
 He ceases, and with furtive eye 
 
edena; or, the doom 35 
 
 Seems waiting for his chiefs reply ; 
 But quickly Udo speaks, and hoarse 
 His voice sounds brokenly and coarse, 
 
 Like the palled tones of the earthquake, 
 
 That mntters ore its terrors break, 
 
 The basements of the earth to shake ; 
 At first just heard, yet more portends 
 The woe that wrecks and wrath that rends — 
 " Avaunt ! and haste ye far and wide, 
 Bring back Edhna, bring back my bride ! 
 Haste yeomanry and search around. 
 Thro' all the hidden of the ground. 
 But treat her nobly— bear her kind, 
 Perchance — I hope 'tis so ; I wrong her in my mind." 
 
 They hasten — all the law they know ; 
 
 His stern behests — is to obey, 
 To storm the stronghold of a foe. 
 
 And rape its booty— rightful prey — 
 He but commands, and they shall go. 
 
 xni. 
 
 And with conflicting passions pressed, 
 That spur the anguish Ox' his breast, 
 His brow convulsed wita the wild paia 
 That heaves his heart, to burst again, 
 Stern Udo stands — for now alone 
 Can pride suppress the rising groan 
 That quakes his heart ? uncertain thought^ 
 Contorted in his soul, is wrought 
 To all misshapes — he hopes his fear, 
 Is not of shadows that appear — 
 Uneasy dreams and visions pass 
 And dark conjectures, and alas ! 
 For lofty pride, more curst than ali, 
 The worst ill-fated to befall, 
 And mildew on a lover's heart ; 
 
 To know that she, whom he loves best, 
 
Should from her nuptial faith depart 
 And mar forevermore his rest. 
 XIV. 
 'Tis vain to'paint the grief he feels, 
 Reflected on his burning brow ; 
 Look closely, ye may read it now, 
 I' th' countenance that all reveals — 
 The ashen cheek, the glinting eye, 
 The smothered groan of agony, 
 And clenching hand, the frenzied stare, 
 And wild, disturbed, and maddened air. 
 These all portray tk© bursting woe 
 That crush his raging heart below. 
 He looks roimd on th« gloomy hall. 
 With an uncertain, searching eye. 
 Upon the wav'ring shadows tall, 
 
 That checkered o'er the aaras nigh. 
 As though amid the shades reclined, 
 His lost Edena he might find — 
 And ghastly smiles, too well he knows 
 That she looks not upon his woes. 
 
 XV. 
 But gazing now, he turns to eye 
 A portrait on the tera» nigh — 
 The representative of his bride. 
 In beautiness of life and pride, 
 She blooms in graces all her own; 
 Reclined upon the ducal throne. 
 The coronet her hair confines, 
 To neatly press the brow it binds, 
 Rlustrious with jewels graced, 
 That seem in flaming rays retraced. 
 Bedecked with proud plumes that betray 
 More lofty, all her birth's array, 
 And on her mien and bearing place 
 The prestige of a noble race. 
 
edena; oe, the doom 87 
 
 Upon the ivory plated stand, 
 
 Rests beautiful, her small white hand, 
 
 And never hand might grace more fair 
 
 The gemmy jewels blazing there — 
 
 Reflecting to the diamond pin, 
 
 That burning glints beneath her chin — 
 
 Where the ruffed collar purely white, 
 
 Shows grateful to the chasten sight — 
 
 And all her rich-hued drapery flows 
 
 With air of neatness in repose, 
 
 And artfully in taste ally 
 
 With all her mien and bearing high. 
 
 XVI. 
 Her full blue eyes rebeam and blaze 
 With intellect and sensuous gaze, 
 Illuminated by that fire 
 Love burns on sacrificial pyre, 
 Where oft the heart to ashes turns : 
 Itself the sacrifice that burns. 
 And her long shading eye-lash fringed, 
 Its hue with native saffron tinged. 
 Luxurious droops, and but to throw 
 Into her eyes a richer glow, 
 And to enhance the nobler -grace 
 Amoured that lightens o er her face. 
 The trimly curving eye-brows Q.'>w 
 
 In delicate and molded endings, 
 Whose witchery and shadings glow 
 
 With tints and hues of richest blendings, 
 And give with their combining grace 
 A bloom-like freshness to her face ; 
 The golden, brown, and wavy hair, 
 Parts neatly o'er her forehead there — 
 Descending in untrammeled fold, 
 O'ershades her shining neck with gold, 
 And half conceals the neat white ear 
 
38 05' 1 '^E ESIDE AyD Ji:.H r.CVER. 
 
 Symmetrically shaped au;l clear. 
 
 XVIL 
 Her curved and ricliiv ripened 'ips, 
 Tlie sculptor's finest thoughts eclipse — 
 Albeit the Greci^ray God entrriuced 
 ^Vli.it lofty dreaui th:il '\:in enhanced. 
 In their voluptnousness t^ey£i^:0^7 
 The passions of tlie heart hslcvi-, 
 ^Viuch, sleeping cairn, ^ r raging liigli. 
 Impress her cheek, or igiit her cyo, 
 Vr\'.\ ii.o" o' 'mpulsiveness, 
 \Y":.it rage lo biaze err bca^ii.; : 
 
 'I'Vdr mihy lives are slight L' p; n ■'! - 
 As if some vr'ord had just bce'i tjcn.-tad — ,' 
 I>ut ere "tv^^ao spoken, had been ( .•.r.gut, 
 W tMa C:e restrain llf ^ual:.enli^n:ed thunght, 
 ^.Thich, though lield back, as strcrugiy gives 
 I'hit sentiment . -hioli gloves rnd ii-'cs 
 Ye. ;-■ ; r:'3 passioned h.?Art f/.dve'^sed, 
 A'-! if yt iidA been all expressed. 
 
 XVIII. 
 And blent throughout her features there, 
 A sadly, sweet and pensive ah-, 
 Half radiant and half aglooii - 
 Like light and shadoAV on the bloom, 
 Pervades th' expressiveness tliat gives 
 The idle mien that looi: whici' lives, 
 Yet there s a melancholy sbao-o 
 O'er all her loveliness arrayed. 
 As though some hope or sad regret 
 Dwells with her wish unanswered yet : 
 As ii her memory had ta'en 
 Its flight into the past agair, 
 Arid on relf?den wings had brt)nght 
 Some pleasant but regretful thought, 
 Ard treasured ia her heart, revealed 
 
EDEN a; OE, the DOOM 39 
 
 Its consciousness but half concealed : 
 As if her pulses were aglow 
 "With dreams of hours long ago, 
 Some recollection that endears 
 A heart scene of her early years, 
 
 To which her vailed affections bow ; 
 Some blest idolum of the past 
 That haunts and conjures to the last — 
 Like love's imploring anxious vow, 
 That woke her heart and warms it now. 
 XIX. 
 But be it what, the pencil's spell 
 Ot witchery has caught it well, 
 And spirited those features still 
 With lofty and commanding skill. 
 And grace that genius knows to thrill. 
 And gazing on the likeness dear, 
 Sad Udo deems that he may hear 
 The music of her breathings fall 
 Upon the silence of the hall — 
 Like if the portraiture were rife 
 "Wilh consciousness and thought and life. 
 
 As the mimetic colors glow 
 So fair and native-like, so true, 
 Ingraces on his tensive view. 
 
 To it he speaks as if 't could know 
 His agonizing grief and woe. 
 And his unsteady voices own 
 A low and supplicating tone, 
 Like melanoboly's low sad strain 
 That pity would not hear again : 
 
 XX. 
 "Edena, once my honor's pride. 
 My beauteous and noble bride: 
 The fairest one I fondly dreamed, 
 That ere on mortal vision beamed — 
 
The purest — for I deemed in sooth 
 Thy bosom but reflected truth — 
 Oh ! hast thou proven reckless hearted ? 
 Oh I hast thou from my soul departed ? 
 Ah, me ! I would that the dark grave 
 Had won thee on that false sworn eve, 
 When thou did'st join thine oath to mine, 
 Than thus so live to perjure thine. 
 Then deep oblivion's darkling wavo. 
 Might so thy memory washed out, 
 Nor left to me such cause to grieve 
 
 Nor of thy righteousness one doubt." 
 He pauses for an instant, and 
 He strokes his temples with his hand, 
 As his dim eyes peruse apace 
 The life-tint beauties of that face 
 Regretfully — but hist, again 
 His voice rolls on its anguished strain, 
 Rererberative of his pain : 
 XXI. 
 "Could I but weep— I shall not weep ! 
 The fragile weak drops shall not leap 
 The boundary they know so well, 
 But burst within their secret cell. 
 Yet shall they know, yet they shall know 
 Its weight, who have provoked its blow, 
 That these things be, it must be so — 
 Why else — Oh where, where is she gone ? 
 That now I may not gaze upon 
 
 That glowing form, that fairest brow, 
 Those lips of gracefulness that now 
 May shrine some gloating rival's vow — 
 Accursed — be moat deeply curst, 
 What hand the nuptial tie would burst ; 
 May treachery, deceit and guile 
 With serpent lips upon him smile ; 
 
EDENi.; OK, THE DOOM 41 
 
 May that around himself reclose 
 Which he on others would impose; 
 May confidence an i happiness _ 
 Beneath his roof, grow daily les?, 
 But letchery gloat there instead, 
 And harlo.ly n mrp his bed ! 
 May she whom his heart calls his wife, 
 Perplex his hopes with shame and strife, 
 And growing gray in foulsome shame, 
 Let low dishonor taint his fame ; 
 Deceived amid his household grown, 
 And curse t© find them not his own." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 He ceases and his accents fall 
 Amid'st the ecfcoes of iha hall, 
 As all his breaih rolls back beneath 
 The pressure of his gnashing teeth. 
 He looks with sadly searching gaze 
 Into the lamp's unsteady blaze. 
 As if withii its circle were 
 A ch' rm to lull down his despair : 
 But flickering, the sinking blaze 
 
 lares diwly with a pale sick haze. 
 And throu^k the ta3t condensing gloom 
 Casts uncouth shadows o'er the room. 
 Misshapen entities that seem 
 The wiaard epir'ta of a dream, 
 Dark representatives of what 
 Lie umbered ia h's depths of thought. 
 But while he m»ses o'er his soul, 
 Long hidden eJfs of memory roll. 
 As his deep, retrospective eye 
 Goes to the past aad brings it nigh, 
 And fancy hurries o'er the track 
 Of many years revolving back. 
 
42 OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOTER. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 She takes him to a noble home, 
 Gem-set to grace the Ocean's foam, 
 Isle-like and fair as o'er mitiht shine 
 Eeflectiveo'«r the billowy brine 
 Just such a spot, when at the gloam 
 Of night-tide, they would love to roam — 
 The mermaids and sea gods, to rest 
 Upon its fair and bloomy breast — 
 And list the cadenc« of the waves 
 And sea-tones from the pearl-set caves, 
 When storm no more its path careers. 
 In all the lovely and the bright. 
 He sees a purer form of light ; 
 In all the music that he hears, 
 Her voice springs loveliest on his ears : 
 And 'midst the flowers of brighter hue, 
 The fairest yield her revenue. 
 Her heart, unknown k) frauds and wilos — 
 Confidingly she looks and smiles. 
 And pours on him the ceaseless stream 
 Of her full love in its Spring dream. 
 The scene is changed, her eyes now raise 
 To his a supplicating gaze, 
 And the deep light that in them burns 
 To wild despair and darkness turns, 
 As o'er her brow convolves a shade 
 That never yet on it was laid, 
 Beweaving o'er her soul a pall 
 And darker — than might ever fall 
 Beyond the voice of hope to call — 
 Now spreads its pinions to depart. 
 Such thoughts and visions far arise 
 Before the musing Udo's eyes. 
 But now with quick convulsive start, 
 Too natural for foil or art, 
 
EDENA ; OR, THE DOOM 43 
 
 He speaks thus, and his roices own 
 The burden of remorseful tone : 
 XXIY. 
 
 " Obtrusive thoughts ! why do ye loar 
 
 Upon my memory and sear 
 
 The visions of the past that fear 
 The far off dead I away — away — 
 Remembrances, why do yo stay ? 
 Ye do belong to other years, 
 And all your sorrows, griefs and fears — 
 Vain — vain — ye may sear but cannot kill — 
 I scorn at ye triumphant still. 
 But why may ye so haunt my sleep 
 And constant sentries o'er me keep ? 
 Can ye annul deeds long gone done, 
 Eecall that which the past has won? 
 'Tis pall'd with years of long ago. 
 Alike my pr.ssicn and her woe — 
 And be there now who durst to tell 
 How that I triumphed or she fell ? 
 'Tis over woven with a vail 
 So very thick it cannot fail 
 To cover with its textured gloom 
 Her painful and unwonted doom. 
 
 I loved her — yet what is that now? 
 I loved her, and the curbloss sway 
 
 Of passion forced her to obey, 
 And her yovng maiden heart to bleed. 
 I paused not then to reckon how 
 The justice of my burning vow 
 
 Might be maintained, or that delay 
 Vfould bring me sorrow as my meed — 
 But it is past — a boyish deed 
 
 That with my boyhood passed away ! 
 XXV. 
 " But memory, whose demon shape 
 
44 OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVEE. 
 
 Lears on me and I can't escape, 
 Insep'rably chained to my side, 
 
 Abhorrent in repuleiveness, 
 And mockery that but deride, 
 
 Rejadea me doxf n beyond redress, 
 And placeB on my soul a weight 
 All dark and dread and de'^olate-- 
 As anciently the captive ta'en, 
 Was bound to the corrosive slain, 
 And doomed, while his curst life might lag, 
 O'er the red field the corpse to drag, 
 And daily view the foul flesh fall 
 
 From off the rotting skeleton, 
 While he po worn to scarcely crawl. 
 
 And wildly rare kis life were done ; 
 While ev'ry breei« that brings him breath, 
 Is laden with corrupting death : 
 So I, alas, and I — hut hark I 
 What sounds approach amid the dark ? 
 The echo of advancing feet — 
 Soon, soon, my wife and I shall meet — 
 Wife ! alas to gri«f I how dark it falls, 
 When solace none that dear name calls; 
 The dearest name of all that is [ 
 The highest guage ot earthly bliss ; 
 The noblest, oldest honor given 
 To woman 'neath the throne of Heaven. 
 The truest, purest in the intent. 
 Friend, lover, solace together blent, 
 Alas, to mo, that never more 
 Can it be as it was of yore ! 
 And 'ts memory will ever bring 
 The shadows of the midnight's wing, 
 
 The gall of burning bitterness, 
 
 Of grief, of sorrow and distrcsB, 
 
 Destroying all that balms to bless. 
 
edena; oe, the doom 45 
 
 XXVL 
 
 " Let other ones to live and laugh, 
 And taintless springs of pleasure quaff, 
 And honorably recline the head 
 Upon the stainlees nuptial bed ; 
 But now to me forever close 
 The gates of honor and repose. 
 But reft of all my plumes I stand 
 Shorn of my grace — seared by this brand 
 Of infamy — through all my day 
 To mildew my curst heart away 
 In solitude of shame's decay. 
 The jester's prize, the scorn of prido 
 And condolences that deride. 
 Have I not sworn? shall I not take 
 A retribution that will shake 
 
 This cursed triumph from the brow 
 Of that vile twain ? until they bow 
 Debased and lower than I do now ! 
 For he who could forgive such deed, 
 
 Deserves the blackness of its shame — 
 Deserves no better, nobler meed. 
 Than it should often come again, 
 A tainting mildew on his fame 
 Of fulsome cast and darkest grain." 
 XXVII. 
 "With harsher and discordant groan 
 On its hoarse hinge the door is thrown, 
 As Stanwold comes with unsheathed blade, 
 And force of clan and arms arrayed. 
 But who is he they lead between 
 Of lofty front and daring mein ? 
 Indignantly his dark eyes flash, 
 And prove ft spirit bold and rash ; 
 Now tossed and driven on passion's waves, 
 Undauntedly stern Udo braves ; 
 
46 OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 
 
 Their proud eyes meet in fixed gazo, 
 And pride and vengeance in them blaze, 
 And both were perished if their glance 
 Were but the substance of the lance ; 
 So fierce their scintillations dart, 
 The furies of envenomed heart. 
 Thus Ulwin and his rival meet- 
 No more might ominously greet 
 Two foes than they that scorn retreat; 
 The one in confidence of power, 
 Gaaes with eyes that darkly lower ; 
 The other in supernal scorn, 
 Of pride like knightly chieftain born. 
 Proves well by his undaunted look, 
 
 He may not shrink to meet his fate, 
 Whate'er its doom — and boldly brook 
 The largest measure of its weight. 
 XXVIII. 
 But like the rose-leaf torn and pale. 
 Disrupted in autumnal gale, 
 
 Edena stands with Ulwin there, 
 Before stern Udo's frown doth quail, 
 
 And shrinks beneath her own despair. 
 Nor can she look into the face 
 Of him she's wronged with such disgrace. 
 Her hands are clasped, and on the floor 
 Her eyes are cast — ah, never more 
 Can she be as once she was — blest ; 
 Or she may live, or she may die. 
 But never, never more, ah, no. 
 May she recover from that blow 
 And its unhallowed doom of woe! 
 And never more feel peaceful rest. 
 Lull, balm-like through her harrowed breast. 
 Th' indignant good will scorn her name, 
 Dishonor blacken on her fame, 
 
edena; or, the doom 47 
 
 With pestilential blight of shamej 
 While ever to her brow will cling 
 Th' abomination's raven wing, 
 And vulture beak, to tear and wring, 
 Yet never, never cease to sting — 
 A blackened shadow mildewed there, 
 The plague spot of her fame's despair ! 
 
 XXIX. 
 As Udo looks upon her face. 
 He sees the startled tear-drop's trace 
 Upon those features, loved so well, 
 
 O'er which the smile was wont to play 
 
 So brilliantly but yesterday, 
 But now has bid her lips farewell. 
 All clouded is her forehead fair, 
 Seared by the footsteps of despair, 
 And her smooth brow he oft has pressed 
 
 With fond affection's kiss, is pale, 
 To be no iZLore by him caressed, 
 
 For sighs r-nd tears will not avail. 
 The swollen veins have sadly marred 
 
 The true vermillion of her cheek : 
 Too well is Udo's vengeance scarred 
 
 Upon such victims pale and weak. 
 Her downcast eyes have lost the light 
 Which wont to show pearl-like and bright, 
 And all obscured by tears which rise 
 From her deep fears by frequent sighs. 
 Though but a moment Udo looks, 
 Yet fixed unflinchingly he brooks 
 
 The suppliant's appealing gaze — 
 She gives, as in his eye is sought. 
 To see the signs of pity wrought I 
 
 No I 'tis a stern, unflinching blaze, 
 
 With which he meets her asking gazo. 
 But burning on her features spurn, 
 
48 OF THE BRIDE AND HER LONER. 
 
 And seem to witker as they burn ; 
 Eepentance seoks her heart too late, 
 To catch her from her foregone fate ; 
 Eepentance brought to life by tear, 
 But fragile as the Btartled tear, 
 May down her cheek its wayward take, 
 Repents, but yet for Ulwin's sake, 
 Would risk her fame and I'fe again, 
 And all the terror of its pain, 
 
 XXX. 
 Oh ! woman ! strange, how strange thou art, 
 In the veiled wonders of thy heart : 
 A contradiction, yet the same; 
 Is constancy thy rightful name? 
 A laughing, sparkling sunbeam given 
 To faintly show us what is heaven ; 
 A vine that kindly clings to hide 
 Our dark deformities of pride, 
 And when we fall, thou fall'st as low, 
 To balm and medicate our woe ; 
 And with thy twining arms caress. 
 To lighten half of our distress. 
 Or yet perchance augment the grief 
 
 That revels o'er our broken pride — 
 Thou may'st not bring an hour's relief — 
 
 But ecorn, and scoru'dt but to deride. 
 The divinity that rays thine eye 
 Tints while it wakes the heart's own sigh. 
 But yet too oft upon the wave 
 Of lile thou wreck'st when thou couldat Bare I 
 The all of what is good and blest 
 Is shrined and jewelled in thy breast. 
 But draughts of evil oft impart 
 Shadows and blackness to thy heart. 
 Yet for thy sake our bosoms feel 
 The dreams that hope and heart reveal — 
 
A shadow and a thing of light, 
 
 A soothing balm — a withering blight — 
 
 A shrine of woe or purer bliss, 
 
 A gift of joy, or grief amiss. 
 
 XXXI. 
 The silence now stern Udo breaks, 
 And gloomily to Stanwold speaks ; 
 *'Eeveal to my unwelcome ear, 
 Stanwold, who are these thou bringest here, 
 And how were found? £'11 bring to light 
 The secrets of this 'cursed night, 
 Although its knowledge should rebound 
 And broken, crash me to the ground. 
 But speak, thou sooth, and tell true tale, 
 Or else thou sadly shalt bewail 
 For having vowed what thing is not — 
 But trusty faith is thine, I wot, 
 And never have I known in sooth, 
 Thy lips to disenshrine the truth — 
 Or thy bosom or thine eye 
 E'en sympathised a traitor lie." 
 
Ci^NTO III. 
 
 I 
 
 And StakwOLD : " May it please my lord, 
 What, but in Booth, can I accord? 
 With those I chose from the array, 
 True to their trust and to obey, 
 I bent my path towards yon brake 
 That glooms about the central lake — 
 But there I did not dream to find her, 
 
 If like a new plumed bird shod flown, 
 From thee, and ne'er was deed unkinder, 
 
 But thought perchance she on had gone— 
 Should her intention be to leave 
 My noble chief alone to grieve — 
 And carefully, as on I sped 
 Surveyed what path a foot might tread, 
 Endeavoring to find some trace 
 To guide me on a doubtful chase ; 
 But to the lakelet drawing near, 
 Low spoken murmurs iroke my ear. 
 Though faint and scarcely heard, I though 
 Her wonted accents I had caught, 
 And deeper notes than hers replied. 
 Like some proud chieftain's in his pride ; 
 And stealing slowly round the hill, 
 With guarded footsteps softly still, 
 I saw, what I sought not to find, 
 Edena on his breast reclined. 
 I heard her thine own name upbraid, 
 I saw him grasp his knightly blade, 
 And heard his dark revengeful threat. 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 51 
 
 'Gainst thee, but said it was not yet 
 Developed, but that it would come 
 When he had borne her to his home, 
 
 II. 
 " The signal to my troops I gave, 
 Who, as the dolphin leaps the wave — 
 So sudden with o'erwhelming bound 
 They bore and held him to the ground. 
 He struggled in his rising strength, 
 
 Nor yielded to our power of three, 
 And vantage force for a great length, 
 
 Of doubtful time — no coward he, 
 
 What else he otherwise may be. 
 His sword was wrenched from out his hand, 
 I struck his dagger to the sand, 
 And in the moment of my wrath, 
 I would have hewn away an path 
 For his proud life, but she essayed 
 To shield him from my falling blade. 
 
 Which had its upward motion flown, 
 And was descending in its dread 
 And mortally resistless weight. 
 When she allured and dared its fate. 
 
 Her arm was close around him thrown, 
 Her hand upon his unhelmed head, 
 And * strike,' she cried, 'if but thou dare 
 At thine own peril' : she looked fair 
 And terrible, thereat my sword 
 Fell curbed and nerveless at the word. 
 
 III. 
 *< Deliver I them to thee now, 
 To doom as justice bids thee how. 
 Had I not found them, she had fled 
 To be to thee as is the dead 
 Or those whom memories retain' 
 To work on us a wilder pain. 
 
52 edena; or, the doom 
 
 And well I heard my lady say, 
 
 She longed to be from thee away, 
 
 As near the lake they did recline 
 
 'Neath the shade of the wild grape vine, 
 
 And full I heard his voice retone — 
 
 ' Ah me, I would we were well flown.' " 
 
 'Tis thus he speaks and looks apace, 
 
 Into his chieftain's rigid face. 
 
 As if he even would espy 
 
 What thoughts lurk in his gloomy eye, 
 
 Or what resolves of death and woe 
 
 Rage in his bursting heart below. 
 
 IV. 
 And Udo hears, as one who hears 
 His death-fate knelling on his ears. 
 And had the Mortal's dread-thrown dart 
 As sudden clove into his heart, 
 The dread and anguish of such stroke, 
 Had not in his shrunk heart awoke, 
 A deeper and more anguished sting 
 Than do those words unwelcome wring. 
 As on his tensive ears they spring. 
 And the cursed burden of their shame, 
 Is more than gall admixt with flame. 
 Though scarcely had he hoped, unblest, 
 A milder doom might lure his rest 
 Back, that now had ever fled his breast, 
 Like as those Arctic rivers roll 
 Re-iced beneath the frozen pole. 
 Though noiseless, yet with fearful force. 
 Their unrestrained and chilling course, 
 Where death and desolation reign. 
 Supremely o'er the icy plain. 
 And as they flow, cast farther wide, 
 
 The deathful chillness of their tide, 
 Rehearing on their glaciered breath, 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 53 
 
 The frozen imagery of death, 
 
 Pale and desolate as a dead bride. 
 Not otherwise does Udo's blood 
 Teem onward in a frozen flood, 
 Throughout his inmost bursting veins, 
 And deathfully and darkly strains, 
 So frozenly that be may feel. 
 It in his very heart congeal. 
 But mightly he strives to force 
 
 The pain of agony within, 
 Which maketh him to feel perforce, 
 Much more than ever yet has been, 
 The deep, dark grief of woe to seal. 
 
 V. 
 Such shadows on his temples gloom. 
 The imagery of what is wrought. 
 In the deep darkness of his thought-— 
 
 Irrevocable of hate and doom, 
 When memory comes up and lears 
 Athwart to conjure wizard fears, 
 This hour and the past present. 
 In strange contrast before his mind, 
 Their vageries confused and blent. 
 The past with all its peace and bliss, 
 "When his lost wife was true and kind- 
 
 The present so unlike to this, 
 As she stand now before him there, 
 'Curst of her fame and her despair. 
 
 VI. 
 Obseurely in his mind there springs 
 The memory of divers things, 
 Which at the time escaped his eye, 
 Or from his notice hasted by, 
 Which now recalled go well to prove 
 Her heart is alien to his love. 
 
54 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Alas ! too late he feels the gall, 
 And desolation of such fall ; 
 The glory of his house disgraced, 
 
 Dishonored by the darkest dye, 
 
 Whose blurepot on his fame could lie. 
 To be alone by blood erased. 
 
 And who has shorn the nuptial tie, 
 But she whose bosom was entwined 
 
 y the strong tendrils of his mind, 
 Which severed now can cling no more, 
 In bright green garlands as of yore. 
 EuL Bhijveting with blight and sere. 
 Wilt down and parch to ruins drear. 
 And for bright blooms will be instead 
 But blasted leaves and ashes dead. 
 From whose obnoxious root will spring 
 Foul growth of weeds un withering. 
 Though terrible his dark resolve. 
 There is no power to absolve — 
 Dishonor leers, and pride assails, 
 And over all revenge prevails, 
 
 Where fell despair and hatred glower, 
 And spur him fast upon the deed. 
 But mercy's voice why should he heed I 
 
 They never heeded in their hour 
 
 His pride of shame, but scorned his power. 
 VII. 
 'Tis hard, when once we've learned to rest 
 The head upon our trusting breast. 
 To hurl it off, and bid it leave 
 The anguished heart alone to grieve. 
 It makes a gulf of w.e and pain 
 That never may be filled again ; 
 Its yearnings are too strong to sate. 
 But anguishing beneath the weight 
 Of disappointed love's wild grief. 
 
stern pride may cotne to our relief, 
 
 And throw o'er all the wounds made there, 
 
 A guarded and indiflforent air. 
 
 Foiling the impertinent eye 
 
 That l!fL8 the heart's draped veil to pry. 
 
 Alone Iho bitter tear may start, 
 
 Evolved as poison from the heart, 
 
 That gliding downward searing streak, 
 
 And burns wiih gall the fevered cheek, 
 
 Or goad the heart to worse unrest ; 
 But to the world's observing eye. 
 We dare liot weep and scarce dare sigh. 
 Though buried far within the breast 
 The grief burns more the more compressed. 
 But more that all it is to doom 
 The one loved beet below the tomb. 
 In spite of pride, in spite of hate. 
 It drags the judgo down with its weight, 
 To almost co-essential fate. 
 Or throws a sinking sickness o'er 
 The bosom, never felt before. 
 A shadowed incubus to press 
 The life to smotherings of distress. 
 But Udo's pride is dearer far. 
 And more attractive honor's star 
 Shines on his crushed pride, and to these 
 Shall love, affection, feeling, freeze— 
 Or rather, in his heart no hope 
 Stands with his stern resolve to cope. 
 All, all within his breast have died, 
 Save gall-fed hate and high-flown pride. 
 And can they ever melt to feel 
 Commiseration's sad appeal? 
 Or charity's, or pity's tone. 
 Or that which is forgiveness' own ? 
 
56 edena; or, the doom 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He on Edena turns his eye, 
 
 And speaks to lier with muffled sigh, 
 
 As if his soul were 'shamed to show 
 
 The veiled convulsions of his woe, 
 Eeaching to that which now has flown, 
 
 The beautiful of long ago, 
 "Which, like the lost star, ne'er can dawn, 
 And his voice swells as if 'twere drawn 
 
 From his palled heart's unfathomed deeps, 
 "Where grief sighs o'er her hearth-gods strewn 
 'Mi Jst wrecks and ruins overthrown. 
 
 Where sorrow wails, and sadness weeps, 
 To mourn the love now past and gone, 
 He never more will own. 
 
 IX. 
 " Edena," and his voice is husk 
 As graveyard bird's at low gray dusk — 
 " Edena, once my own, blest bride, 
 Life of my passion and my pride, 
 Oh, why thus from thy honor fall 
 
 To the low depths of woman's shame? 
 Belter the grave, the hearse, the pall. 
 
 The deepest flood, the rearing flame, 
 Had curbed thee in thy high career, 
 "When thou wast chaste and taintless, clear 
 From the d;trk stain that marks thy brow, 
 Than thus survive what thou art now. 
 I cherished thee with fondest care. 
 And never dreamed that one so fair. 
 So seeming pure, could fall so low — 
 And lower thou canst never go. 
 I never thought that I caressed 
 A woman of such guileful breast ; 
 But that by me so greatly loved, 
 I deemed thy innocence approved, 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 57 
 
 \ 
 
 Or rather more, an alien thought 
 'Gainst thee suspicion never wrought, 
 But loving thee, I ever deemed 
 Thee all the promise that thou eeemod, 
 As honorably, chastely pure, 
 Whom foul dishonor ne'er might lure. 
 Alas ! within the fairest breast, 
 A serpent's tooth may darkly rest, 
 
 To sting with its envenomed guile, 
 Atid in the eyes which seem divine. 
 The fires that burn there only shine, 
 
 Eeflections of unholy wile, 
 While luring lips that smile but sweet, 
 May charm us to their grief's deceit. 
 And the harmonious laugh revealed, 
 May keep some damning thought concealed ! 
 But thou has proven to me forlorn. 
 A vampire in vain beauty's form. 
 The curse of blasted love alight 
 Upon thy head in more than might ! 
 And wither thee until thou know 
 The pestilence of all its woe. 
 And rend thy heart, till it shall feel 
 Such tortures to its centre reel — 
 But it were sacrilege to give 
 To thee such preference to live — 
 A blasphemy to woman's name, 
 A profanation and a shame I 
 Thou live ! and I have power to tread 
 Thy foul life back below the dead I 
 No, never; no: curst to thy doom. 
 Go blacken in the grave's damp gloom, 
 The Earth indignant shrinks to bear 
 Such thing as thou so foully fair !" 
 
 X. 
 Oh, doom of pride and hate! it sinks 
 
58 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Into the heart that from it shrioks ! 
 
 "With startled cry and wailing shriek, 
 
 Edbna, nerveless, pale and weak, 
 
 Collapses to the cold hard floor, 
 
 Where she may rise, hope prays, no more. 
 
 In dead-like swoon she slumbers there 
 
 So pale and still, so deadly fair, 
 
 With tintless lip of brightness fled, 
 
 A bloomless kope o( beauty dead ; 
 
 So from the wild plum tree i'th' vale 
 
 The bloom, torn by the Spring-time gale, 
 
 Falls lowly on the ground beneath 
 
 In beautiful bst eai relief. 
 
 In some such way does she appear 
 
 On death's confines eo very near. 
 
 Or else perchance she more may seem 
 
 The fair illusion of some dream 
 
 That looks to the beholder's eye, 
 
 To precious in its grace to die. 
 
 A ray from Heaven's glory torn, 
 
 Embodied in a woman's form. 
 
 And sent on earth to dwell awhile. 
 
 To light man's heart up with a smile. 
 
 Oh ! it were well if but that stroke, 
 
 The life springs of her heart have b 
 
 To bid her sundered spirit fly. 
 
 Than to revive and darkly die; 
 
 But fate delays its final blow 
 
 Eeserving her for all its woe, 
 
 The further to prolong the shame 
 
 That rankles on her pride and fame. 
 
 XI. 
 With striken soul. Lord Ulwin springs 
 To her assistance, and he flings 
 Aback her richly lustrous hair. 
 And bares her temples to the air; 
 
OF THE BRIDE ilND HER LOVER. 59 
 
 Seeks in her face with eye distrest 
 If from its shrine her life is wrest. 
 Half hopeful still that life is fled 
 To the vailed empire of the dead, 
 Yet fearful it has won its flight 
 Into those unknown gulfs of night, 
 No more its pathway to retrace. 
 
 But now the maid in waiting there, 
 Sprinkles the water o'er her faco, 
 She moves, she breathes — revives apace- 
 And opens dim her wilder eyes, 
 Her pulses flutter, and she sighs 
 
 A broken note of woe's despair — 
 And her fair bosom heaves and falls 
 And back to woe life's conscience calls, 
 As slowly to her cheeks return 
 The bright hues back that tint to burn — 
 So the hill lily, parched and dry, 
 Eevives beneath a dewy sky, 
 And takes again its life and bloom, 
 Reanimating the far gloom 
 With softer tints that sweetly glow 
 And radiates the scene below. 
 
 XII. 
 But Ulwik rears her to her feot; 
 Her woe-dimmed eyes and Udo's meet, 
 But in his cold and fixed stare 
 She sees there is no pity there. 
 And feels almost without regret. 
 Her life's last hope forever set, 
 Since now has sunk its cheering beam 
 That lightened o'er her bosom's dream ; 
 Since what has come between her love 
 And Ulwin, fate will never move ; 
 Back on itself her life appalls, 
 And 'neath the darkened ruin falls. 
 
With hopeless woe and hopeless dread, 
 Never to lift aloft her head 
 
 In consciousness of pride a::ain, 
 Of all its native grace-tints shed 
 
 Low on the plain. 
 
 sni. 
 
 Her eye on Ulwin now she turns : 
 Proudly he stands, a chieftain born ; 
 
 Indignantly his bosom burns 
 Between regret and lofty scorn : 
 
 Eegret for his Edena's sake, 
 
 And that revenge he may not take 
 On his delying foeman's head : 
 
 And scorn for those who 'round him stand, 
 By whom he is a captive led, 
 
 That dare to wield a soldier's brand. 
 The pride and flashing of his eye 
 Bespeak a heart in daring high, 
 That quaileth not beneath the blast. 
 When adverse fate is o'er him cast, 
 Nor shuddereth before the gaze 
 Of frenzied toe or battle's blaze ; 
 And Udo turns on him his eyes, 
 But proudly Ulwin's gaze replies. 
 Such look as mortal hatred gives, 
 That grows the more the more it lives, 
 Which feeds upon itself and throws 
 A poisoned shadow where it grows. 
 
 XIV. 
 It may be but a dream-waked thought 
 That Udo's anxious soul has caught, 
 That he conjectures he has seen 
 In other days that nobler mien ; 
 Yet when and where he may not tell : 
 His mera'ry guards it not so well. 
 But yet withal he strives to trace 
 
 I 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 61 
 
 Some past remembrance in that face, 
 That lingering seems there dwell ; 
 Some dim and yet familiar air, 
 That wanders o'er those features there ; 
 And retrospection goes again, 
 
 Back through the shadows of the past, 
 Reviewing his far life again. 
 
 All forms and deeds around it cast— - 
 But amidst them all, or dreampt or seen, 
 None answereth to Ulwin's mien 
 In picturehood— -he may not limn 
 A likeness reproducing him. 
 So that he only can but deem 
 His thought the shadow of a dream. 
 
 XV. 
 He speaks now : from the nether deeps, 
 Where his veiled soul its vigil keeps. 
 His umbered voice, like tones of fear, 
 Bodes ominiously on the ear. 
 So the repulsive echoes grate. 
 
 Back from the cavern of the grave, 
 Solemnly, when the cold, dead weight 
 
 Of damp heavy sods, wave on wave, 
 Breaks mournfully with muttured swell 
 Up from the vault, the dead man's knell. 
 
 XVI. 
 " Bold stranger^ thou hast run thy race ; 
 
 Here shall thy pride and valor stay ; 
 No more life's pathway shalt thou trace, 
 
 To pluck the flowers by the way. 
 
 Exulting in thy youthful day. 
 But borne on an untimely bier, 
 Curbbed in the midst of thy career, 
 Shalt thou go down into the grave 
 Sepulchraled by the meanest slave ; 
 The glories of thy youth resigned, 
 
62 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Earth, hope and love, all left behind, 
 Consign I thee to that dread doom, 
 That palls and withers in the tomb. 
 No friends about thy bier shall weep 
 And o'er thy head the vigils keep ; 
 No soft, caressing hand shall throw 
 Its shadows o'er thy clammy brow ; 
 Unhoped, dishonored by thy fall, 
 With none to answer thy life's call ; 
 Nor yet shall kindly friendship claim, 
 An epitaph to grace thy name, 
 Not even as muoh as the grey stone 
 To guard the grave, now soon thy own. 
 Nor yet the shriving priest's fond hope 
 To aid thee with death's fiend to cope. 
 But falling in thy hopefulness, 
 Alone with yon vile sorceress. 
 And thou hast done that which will not 
 Be ever by the soul forgot. 
 Thou hast with sacriligious hand, 
 Avulsed the sacred nuptial band, 
 And cast upon my lofty name, 
 A foul and most enduring shame, 
 And torn forever from my mind 
 Those tendrils home-bred hopes had twined 
 And she, whom once I called my wife, 
 The chieftest beauty of my life, 
 More guileful bade thee make the wound. 
 And tore it when she should have bound. 
 Thus have thy passions dealt the blow. 
 That rankles in my breast of woe. 
 To bitterness of curst o'erflow. 
 But all shall back upon thee turn, 
 And with redoubled vengeance bum. 
 Death is your doom, the equal meed 
 To parallel your shameful deed 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 63 
 
 And I -vrere reckless to my fame, 
 
 My honor and my father's name, 
 
 To the long line of my proud race, 
 
 That never sufiered yet disgrace 
 
 Of slightest taint, or greatest weight , 
 To blacken on their high estate ; 
 Nor can I prove degenerate 
 
 To that great ancestry which _^knew 
 
 Its all of privilege and due. 
 
 Thou must so die, nor long shall live, 
 
 But right of speech I to thee give. 
 
 If thou have aught now thou mayst say, 
 
 Nor shall I check thee in thy way. 
 
 It were a shame thus to deny 
 
 Such favorance to those who die ; 
 
 Thus much the land's religion^ives 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He gives it that perchance he might 
 Thus bring Lord Ulwin's name to light 
 Great the desire has he to know 
 If erst he ever met his foe ; 
 
 If erst he ever saw that face, 
 On which, though dimly, he doth eeem, 
 
 Association he may trace. 
 Which haunt him like some Ion gone dream 
 
 That distance, time almost efiace. 
 So oft have ye in mazy thought. 
 Some undeveloped idea caught. 
 That in the dim back ground escapes, 
 In tangible, in crude misshapes. 
 
 XVIII. 
 And Ulwin" thus with gloomy eye 
 Returns an answer in reply, 
 And his low voice is like the breeze, 
 That tones upon the Southern seas. 
 
64 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Betraying not the blast which breaks, 
 When the provoking spirit wakes, 
 And hurls the gulfy waves to wreck 
 The wing-like swiftness of the deck, 
 Or burst with mad and wild o'erflow 
 On Charleston's promontory low. 
 
 XIX. 
 " Thou call'st me stranger ; it is well ; 
 But when thou heai*'st what I've to tell, 
 Thou canst indubitably say, 
 That we have met upon life's way. 
 Yes, met we have, but many years 
 
 Have cast their shadows on my brow, 
 And grief and woes and bitter tears 
 
 Have almost forced my soul to bow, 
 So fell and scathing in their fate 
 And crushing in their falling weight. 
 But from my mien one would suppose, 
 I never knew of grief and woes ; 
 
 That sorrow's wing has never flung. 
 
 Its shadows over one so young. 
 
 And made me what thou seest now, 
 
 With love's life tendrils wildly wrung, 
 And hopes converted to despair, 
 To mock the heartful dreams that were^-- 
 
 ]leraorse has sunk in deepest slough. 
 But there be some who can defy 
 The shock of years with changfeless eye, 
 The anguish that makes others bow 
 Pejectedly, and proudly bear 
 The gall of sorrow and of grief, 
 Yet suffer on and scorn relief. 
 Until the very woe appears 
 To soothe the spirit while it sears; 
 But on the surface of the face 
 No wrecking changes ye may trace, 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 65 
 
 Nor indices to tell the tale 
 
 Of that which glooms beneath the vail. 
 
 The lip may smile, the eye may shine 
 
 With wit and eloquence divine, 
 
 The cheek may burn with rosy hue, 
 
 As frosh as bloom with morning dew, 
 
 And yet 'tis but the fires of woe 
 
 Reflected from the heart below, 
 
 And from the anguished bosom where 
 
 Disastrous dwell pain and despair! 
 
 XX. 
 "And such am I, but on my face 
 No lightning sear marks ye may trace ; 
 No care worn shades out lined — all wrought 
 To image forth the wordless thought ; 
 
 But far within my soul concealed, 
 
 A sickness rages unrevealed, 
 
 By hope forever unappealed, 
 Whose pestilential power throws 
 Itself contorted to all woes; 
 
 But the smooth surface calm and still, 
 
 Show not the things within that kill, 
 
 Which sear and burn against the will, 
 Bebellious as some demon thrown 
 
 Upon the burning sills of hell. 
 Chained down, and with revolting groan 
 
 Obstreperous, shakes the deep cell 
 
 Of his imprisonment with curst immortal yell. 
 XXI. 
 "But why delay ? I would reveal 
 What long has borne th' unbroken seal, 
 Sepulchred in the memory, 
 But cannot, may not over die. 
 
 I scarce would even tell it now. 
 But for a kind of vengeful pride. 
 
 Which rankles in the human breast, 
 
66 edena; or, the doom 
 
 That prompts us often to deride, 
 And for the honors of my vow 
 
 The truth of which ye may attest. 
 And I have sworn me to defy 
 
 On hill and dale, and ocean wave, 
 That man a coward and a lie, 
 
 A heartless poltroon and a knave, 
 Who like a villian of the night, 
 Placed on my home, my nam«, my heart, a blight. 
 
 XXIT. 
 " I had a sister — one as fair 
 And beautiful as light and air. 
 E'er tinted nature's gracest flower, 
 To bloom in chastely guarded bower. 
 Ilcr voice was soft, her step was free 
 As zephyrs dancing on the lea. 
 And her eye innocently clear 
 "Was never dimmed by sorrow's tear, 
 Except when pity moved its spring 
 For others kindly sorrowing. 
 She had a tender heart and kind, 
 A hand the painful wound to bind : 
 The friendless never went nor came. 
 But that they blessed her dear loved name. 
 And to the poor her aid she cast 
 Who fondly loved her as she past, 
 And 'raptured, paused to catch her tones . 
 That charity of kindness owns ; 
 And in the pure grace of her heart 
 She recked not guilefulnes3 of art. 
 Her face I scarce remember now, 
 Except her calm and noble brow ; 
 And her clear eyes whose lambent blue 
 Rivaled the heaven's purest hue ; 
 And these are imaged through the haze 
 Of time's accumulated days. 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOYER. 67 
 
 But faintly, as through thick stained glass 
 
 All things viewed distant dimly pass. 
 
 Yet I remembei* oft we met 
 
 To watch the sun ore twilight set, 
 
 And wondering talked of the star 
 
 That shone mysterious from far; 
 
 Or happily together strayed 
 
 In our young days alorn^ the glade. 
 
 They often told me in my face 
 
 Her mimet likeness they could trace, 
 
 And when I smiled saw plainly there 
 
 The smile her lip alone could wear, 
 
 XXIIL 
 *< Like as the living canvass throws 
 The visage back in faithful glows. 
 And gazing on the imago true, 
 Keflecting each familiar hue, 
 
 We almost deem ns that we eye 
 Instead of it, the living one, 
 
 As through the mystic colors high, 
 From point to line our eyes we run 
 Across the BC«nery and gleen 
 The dear remembrance of the mien, ^ 
 
 And the familiar features there 
 "Which tell us of the days that were; 
 'Twas thus th«y said in me they caught 
 The semblance of her likeness wrought. 
 
 And happily we grow apace, 
 
 Her foot steps leading for the race — 
 For she was quite a woman grown 
 With all her beauties chastely blown 
 
 In native comeliness of grace, 
 While I of scarce six summers sped, 
 
 By her loved hand was onward led, 
 And pleasantness and beauty flew 
 Around our foot-steps as we grew — 
 
68 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Too soon alas to wilt and die 
 By sorrow, grief and misery! 
 
 XXIV. 
 " About that time unto our home 
 A cavalier was chanced to roam ; 
 Of lofty front and treasured gold 
 And prestige noble to behold, 
 Of type th' impassioned minstrels see 
 Too high for deeds of vile degree. 
 I feared, and yet I knew not why, 
 I shunned the presence of his eye; 
 But yet 'twas so, I could not bear 
 To look upon its beamy glare. 
 And th' arrogance that glowered there. 
 Another cause had I to grieve ; 
 My sister all our sports would leave, 
 And left me sad and lone to cheer 
 The games but prized when she was near ; 
 I felt as if some mighty change 
 Had worked a spell, to me how strange ! 
 Yet sho was kind, and if her eye 
 Beamed wondrous lustre and the sigh 
 Eose frequent from her heaving breast, 
 To me she was the same and best ; 
 And often, too, I saw her smile, 
 When that proud cavalier was near, 
 Though scarce his language could I hear, 
 
 Nor ev'n remember it the while ; 
 But what it was it pleased her well, 
 To catoh the cadence of its swell, 
 For his full accents were of such 
 A style which damsel values much. 
 
 XXV. 
 " Then came a time I saw no more 
 That cavalier upon our shore ; 
 He was retired, I know not where, 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 69 
 
 JN'or bad withal a thought of care. 
 But rather joy, because of fear, 
 I always felt when be was near ; 
 Tbat kind of quick, instinctive dread 
 Of one wbo hears a serpent's tread : 
 Bore on my beart with heavy weight, 
 A dark foreboding of its fate ; 
 But sad sbc wept, and a dark shade 
 Upon her purer brow was laid. 
 Like to those shadows darkly spread, 
 Upon the cold still brow of the dead, 
 And withering she sought the tomb, 
 And shrouded in its rayloss gloom. 
 Forewent her grief, forgot the woe. 
 That crushed her by its scathing blow. 
 
 XXVI. 
 "Like as when from mountain side, 
 The stream rolls down with murky tide, 
 And plunging with convulsive mood 
 Below into the raging flood. 
 Wakes all the terror of its wave — 
 A flower from its native cave, 
 That for a moment on the sight. 
 Blooms with retioted hues ot light, 
 The sweet reflection of the hour 
 When it grew blest within its bower — 
 Is gulphed beneath the foamy crest 
 
 Of the wild flood, no more to beam 
 Upon the vision it has blest ; 
 
 Not otherwise did she beseem, 
 Not otherwise the sad one's fate, 
 O'erwhelmed her with its adverse weight. 
 
 XXVII. 
 " I knew not then why it was so, 
 "What fate had woo her heart's o'erthrow ; 
 In after years the truth I learned, 
 
70 edena; oe, the doom 
 
 That Bhrinking on my bosom burned, 
 
 And fueled there a fire whose flamo 
 
 Was nurtured to erase her shame — 
 
 That she was forced to render up, 
 
 To jewel passions lecher cup, 
 
 Her honor, pure as virtue's own — 
 
 The robber took it aod was flown. 
 
 Ill dooming such he must atone — 
 
 Exulting in the deed he'd done, 
 
 And the triumphs his fraud had won. 
 
 EovQJige I swore me to assume, 
 
 Atid vihit hrra with darker doom 
 
 Than ere crushed heart beneath its gloom. 
 
 It irore to hor most rich incense — 
 By blood alon» such debt were paid, 
 As to appease h«r injured shade. 
 And expiate such foul offense, 
 Which blacker grows, yet ne'er repents, 
 Bat swells in fullness and in length. 
 From nothing but its innate strength — 
 As poison weeds which ranker shoot 
 From fouler ground with deeper root ; 
 And who is he who so has wrought 
 This deed's disgrace to hand or thought? 
 And desecrated the chaste fame 
 That clustered 'round Elula's name! 
 Be it disowned — if such may be, 
 And challenge it — for thou art he I" 
 
 XXVIII. 
 He ceases, and his voice retires 
 Into his breast like smothered fires. 
 That in the furnace glow to wage 
 Their violence in dampened rage ; 
 To Udo so that voice appears. 
 As it still echoes in his eara 
 The doom of all his pride — too liko. 
 
OF THE BKIDE AND HER LOVER. 71 
 
 And boding on his heart they strike, 
 
 As one cureed by the cobra's stroke, 
 
 That sudden at his feet awoke — 
 
 Astonished, s'luddering with dread, 
 
 Stands gazing, while he would have fled ; 
 
 But paralyzed by instant fear, 
 
 Flees not from the great terror near — 
 
 So Udo on the monaent eeems, 
 
 Or one more 'mazed, himself bemeans. 
 
 He is confused, and o'er his face 
 
 Deep shame and mixed amazement trace, 
 
 And anger and regret combined 
 
 Kage through the tempest of his mind. 
 
 The seciet torn from out his breast. 
 
 He stands a criminal confessed ; 
 
 Such crime that pride and shame disown, 
 
 And consciousness of honor gone. 
 
 He feels, alas ! another knows — 
 Alas ! that it were such a one — 
 The only thing he deemed was hid, 
 And shrouded 'neath the coflSn lid ; 
 What deed he would have kept concealed. 
 And never yet to have revealed 
 
 The cause which murdered his repose — 
 
 Fell ghosts o'' unrequited woes. 
 And shame and infamy whoso weight 
 Drags downward to abhorrent state, 
 Like demon phantoms 'round him glide. 
 To strip the plumes that deck his pride. 
 
 XXIX. 
 Or like some wight who haps to find 
 A treasure, keeps it to his mind, 
 Concealing where he deems no eye 
 Discovering might chance to pry ; 
 Rests him secure, and haply deems 
 No one to wot of that he dreams — 
 
But bow astonished, when he goes 
 With wonted step at eve's repose, 
 To gaze upon his treasure there, 
 And dream of place and mansions fair, 
 And plan and picture o'er again 
 His manor fields and broad domain— 
 To find that some remorseless hand 
 Had raped his treasures from the sand, 
 And all the visions of his mind 
 Are scattered vapors of the wind, 
 
 His pride reversed, and dreams o'erthrown ; 
 
 With clenching hand and grinding teeth 
 
 And hissing of his thickened breath, 
 
 He rages in convulsive groan, 
 And curses with an oath accurst, 
 Black ruin on his foe the worst. 
 
 XXX. 
 Not otherwise Udo appears, 
 As Ulwin's words close on his ears ; 
 
 At loss what answer he may deign, 
 Half doubtful of the voice he hears, 
 
 But more resolve to him doth give 
 
 That Ulwin never more shall live. 
 
 And why should he so long refrain. 
 From the dread word whoso doom but waits 
 On him the signet of the fates ; 
 But ere he signs or makes reply, 
 Bold Ulwin thus with gloomy eye 
 
 Eenews his memories again : 
 And huskier with doubled hate 
 His tones on Udo's bosom grate. 
 And deeper volumed but appear 
 Pride's voices curdled to a sneer. 
 
C^NTO IV. 
 
 I. 
 
 " But is there aught on earth that grows 
 
 Like love's warm passion o'er the heart I 
 Or sinking 'neath its balm'd repose, 
 Or roused by its electric shock, 
 To unpremeditated start ! 
 "Which wakes it as the wild storms wako 
 The broken waves to rage and quake — 
 So foaming o'er the shaken rock. 
 II. 
 *' When at the evening's calm repose, 
 Eedreaming in the sunset glows, 
 To wander down the hermit glen, 
 And love too well and love again, 
 And feel that thrill which hearts know well- 
 How deeply felt it may not tell; 
 Or otherwise at twilight's hour 
 To wander to the umbered bower, 
 Where maiden sweet of fairest race 
 Awaits the kiss — endered embrace — 
 Bright eacriface to Love's high power — 
 But )ove---it is the minstrel's theme, 
 His bosomed object and his dream, 
 He builds a heaven where there is none, 
 He speaks a light where there's no sun. 
 And for fair stars to deck his skies 
 lie places woman's jeweled eyes, 
 And throws o'er all and unconfined 
 The graced ideals of his mind. 
 
74 edena; oe, the doom 
 
 III. 
 
 " As Heaven's breath is to the life, 
 
 As tempest to the whirlwind's strife, 
 
 "With energies of power rife ; 
 As lightning to the rifted cloud, 
 When it palls earth as in a shroud : 
 As is the sunbeam to the earth. 
 To quicken all to joy of mirth 
 Enhancing all around, above; 
 So to the minttrel's soul is love : 
 'Tis only thej who feel and know 
 The all of 1ot« and all its woe, 
 Who reaping t»k« the richest sheaf, 
 Or sanctify its darker grief; 
 Who feel its joy as none else feel. 
 Or stricken, to its power reel, 
 And bless or curso the one who brought 
 The jDleasing or the bitter draught, 
 Lays at her feet the heart she tore. 
 Seeks for her grace and yet the more, 
 The smile his very soul had bought — 
 
 Drunk with the cup his life had quaffed, 
 Whose essences his heart but knows — 
 
 Devoted like the pagan blind 
 
 To adoration's power resigned. 
 He nourishes his bosom's woes, 
 Or high exults his bliss, and throws 
 A glory o'er his idol's brows. 
 And to his own creation bows. 
 
 lY. 
 " 'Twas so with mo — and I have felt 
 
 Such influence — immortal gift — 
 The beautiful that shines to melt 
 
 Or the sublime that plumes to lift ; 
 The spirit of true poesy, 
 Whose best constituent is free, 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOYER. 75 
 
 Impassioned love— the native grace 
 Ineffable, that gilds and throws 
 Effulgent tints and purer glows 
 
 O'er nature's universal face. 
 Y. 
 " 'Twas 60 with me, and I would tell 
 
 The requiem of blighted love : 
 How my young hopes to ruins fell 
 
 Hurldd downward from their place above— 
 O all the griefs which burst the soul, 
 
 Despair upon the spirit bringing, 
 Of all the pestilence which sear, 
 That start or dry the bitter tear. 
 
 The wildest from our bosoms wringing, 
 And scathing through the bosom roll, 
 The wildest, darkest of them all 
 Is blasted love — it is the pall 
 Enveloping the epirit's light. 
 It wraps the hope in hues of night, 
 Casts mildew on its bud and flower; 
 A feinking blight in all the hour; 
 Distilling in the cup of woe 
 That sends the cold pale life below 
 
 VI. 
 " Dark is the doom which bids to die ! 
 The dread avenger frowning nigh. 
 With the uplifted wrath of fate. 
 To crush the victim 'neath its weight, 
 Who cowereth beneath the blow, 
 And kneeleth at his feet below, 
 And giveth in one wild long wail. 
 His pale life to the frightened gale ; 
 But lighter far is this to bear 
 Than disappointed love's despair ! 
 
 YII. 
 'Tis more than if the simoon's breath 
 
76 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Should spread its gloomy wings of death 
 Far o'er some lovely province, where 
 Spi'ing herbs and shrubs of beauty rare, 
 Bewithtring their brightest leaves, 
 And naught of life and green retrieve?, 
 But where those beauties once appeared 
 We see alone black desert seared. 
 
 YIII. 
 "It is as if in dreams we feel 
 Around the heart the serpent steal I 
 And by ascending spirals mount. 
 Drink drop by drop its living fount, 
 'Till it be empty, parched and dry, 
 Then coil himself, and in its hollow chambers lie 
 
 IX. 
 "Like an enduring worm it gnaws, 
 And on the life for sustance draws, 
 And kindles in the poisoned breast 
 A fire which murders all our rest ; 
 A slow consuming fire which turns 
 The hopes to ruins as it burns ; 
 
 eflecting from the heart below 
 The hues and shadows of its woe ; 
 So the exhaustive flames consume 
 The charred brand which they illume; 
 Feed on the energies which give 
 It momentary strength to live, 
 Decaying, 'till with waste and wear 
 It leaves but cold dead ashes there. 
 
 X. 
 "And I have felt love's mystic power ; 
 
 I know its joy and all its pain ; 
 I've felt its shadows o'er me lower. 
 
 And its returning beams again ; 
 And I have warmed me in its light, 
 Which filled my heart with most delight; 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 77 
 
 And I have bowed beneath its blast, 
 As disappointment o'er me cast 
 Her shadows as she onward passed, 
 To be remembered by me yet 
 
 When other things have ceased to move. 
 Where is t^e soul that may forget 
 
 The reminiscences of love I 
 B-C may as well forget to breathe, 
 As bid such recollections leave. 
 
 XI. 
 "On, after loved Elula died, 
 I grew apace in youthful pride, 
 Until by years of strength elato 
 I reared me up to man's estate, 
 And felt that warm exultant glow 
 That flushes o'er young manhood's brow : 
 And the expanding world to mo 
 Portended hope's felicity, 
 And young ambition's bold, brave eye 
 Marked out a place toward the sky, 
 Where it had hoped to wing its flight. 
 And bathe its plume in brilliant light, 
 Keflecting far my rising name 
 In scintillations of true fame; 
 Such like the patriot may bequeathe, 
 Erst he his righteous sword shall sheathe. 
 
 Sublime in its far flashing flame ; 
 But more, I hoped to win that wreath, 
 Whose eminations seem to shine, 
 With power of genius, to enshine 
 The eloquence of thought divine, 
 That lives and grows and ever glints 
 With immortality of tints 
 And grandeur's pride, which we behold 
 In the divine stern bards of old. 
 Of some such pride and noble hope, 
 
78 EDENA ; OR, THE DOOM 
 
 My first bold thoughts were brave to copa: 
 But how, alas! our brighter schemes 
 
 Are oft obscured by darker night, 
 And the proud spirit's rising dreams 
 
 Are shrouded in the shadow's might, 
 And we but late or sooner learn, 
 'Twixt joy and grief our hopes yet turn, 
 
 In equal scale, or weighing low, 
 
 Or high, with adverse pride or woe, 
 
 What fate withholds or may bestow. 
 XII. 
 "But I must on ; a message came, 
 (Emblazoned with the Prince's name,) 
 
 Unto my sire ; a high bequest, 
 Commanding him straightway repair 
 Unto a distant province where, 
 With feudal troop and knightly blade, 
 The foeman had his ranks arrayed, 
 
 On the far borders of the west. 
 And with my sire I a^so went, 
 On ventures new and honor bent, 
 
 To take my first degree in war, 
 
 That lured my valor from afar ; 
 
 To win the knightly spur and scar. 
 With tensive cords the bracing sail 
 Was spread before the Ocean gale, 
 And soon the crags and mountains blue 
 Rose dimly looming on the view. 
 While th' outliae of my island home 
 Dimmed from my sight beneath the foam j 
 Nearer and more near we came to land, 
 And coasting down the curving strand. 
 To where the haven's harbored breast 
 Affords its quietude of rest ; 
 
 We disembarked, and sought the court. 
 My father hastened to the Prince 
 
OF THE BKIDE AND HER LOVER. 
 
 His love and duty to evince 
 And roll of forces to report. 
 XIII. 
 "But I meanwhile surveyed to find 
 The things most pleasing to ray mind, 
 Of beautiful or strange and gay, 
 That chance might offer in my way; 
 And what I never shall forget, 
 'Twas there I first Edena met : 
 We met and ere the hour was flown 
 I felt an influince unknown, 
 An influence till then before 
 My hermit heart had ne'er come o'er, 
 I loved ; it is enough for me to say 
 I loved ; she was the star beam whose ray. 
 Charmed down my heart beneath its sway, 
 I loved ; in that world is tinctured all 
 Its honey dew or poisoned gall ; 
 It was to me no sickly flower. 
 That buds and blows in the same hour. 
 But e'er the bloom be ripely blown 
 By passing change is overthrown, 
 In fickleness, dies pale and lone, 
 Revulsed and sere, but I would learn 
 
 EdeisTA loved in turn : 
 She did, and to my soulful sighs, 
 Reanswered with heart-written eyes. 
 
 XIV. 
 " In triumph, I but deemed I won 
 The loveliest beneath the sun. 
 And many were the times we met. 
 When night had dropt her curtains wet 
 "With aramanthine dews, perfumed 
 By flowerings that star-light bloomed. 
 While the full stars which watched the night. 
 Looked down with an approving light. 
 
80 EDEN A.; OE, THE DOOM 
 
 Ah ! then, I lelt that I would give 
 The all of earth near her to live, 
 And stake the hopes of higher bliss 
 For the sweet thrillings of her kiss. 
 No blinded devotee e'er bowed, 
 
 And worshipped before the shrine 
 Of his own god, and there avowed 
 His frenzied adoration more, 
 
 Thau I did kneel and worship mine, 
 Upon whose head my heart would pour 
 Its fonts of fervency that glowed 
 And o'er its shrine baptizing flowed. 
 
 XV. 
 " But why should I repeat the tale ? 
 It is enough : we met to part, 
 To feel that wildness of the heart, 
 And our misfortunes to bewail. 
 Painful the struggle to dissever 
 Our hearts, which were oemented ever 
 With fibres of unbroken twine, 
 As oft is seen the gold love vine. 
 To canopy the woven bough. 
 
 We parted thus the tear, the sigh, 
 The token whisper and reply 
 From hueless lips ; the pallied brow ; 
 Th' excited pulse and hopeful vow, 
 And solemn promise to be true. 
 Commingled with the words — ' adieu.' 
 * Farewell,' baptized with hopeful tears. 
 That conjured up, yet soothed our fears, 
 Those fears which ev'ry lover knows, 
 To goad or startle his repose : 
 We vowed all others to disown, 
 And for each other live alone. 
 
 XVI. 
 "We parted, and I sought again 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOTER. 81 
 
 My island home, to wish in vain. 
 The native hills o'er which I ranged, 
 Disrobed their beauty, and estranged 
 All nature seemed, and sadly lone. 
 I sighed for the sweet smile of one-— 
 Edeita. Shrined in every thought, 
 Her image and her name were wrought. 
 She was the hope for which I breathed, 
 O'er which I joyed, for which I grieved, 
 And love's first passions strong and young, 
 O'er me its subtle nettings flung, 
 And through and in my very frame 
 Was kindled a consuming flame. 
 XVII. 
 " Now many moons had waxed and waned, 
 While yet my yearning heart was baned 
 For what 't had lost, and what 't had gained. 
 Its hope still far beyond the tide — 
 When, oh, sad fate, my sire died ! 
 A proud and noble chief was he. 
 And teacher of our chivalry ; 
 
 Whose sword was as tbe sword of fate, 
 Which gleamed afar or fell in weight. 
 In field or camp he ever bore 
 The lofty part of conquerer. 
 
 He fell unwithered in his state. 
 By death's unheralded sudden stroke. 
 As falls by chance the bolt-struck oak ; 
 We placed h m by my mother's side, 
 Who in the long agone had died, 
 O'ercome by that dark stroke which gave 
 Elula's bosom to the grave. 
 Now sad, deserted, and forlorn, 
 Twas double cause had I to mourn. 
 I mourned my sire thirty days. 
 And decked his tomb with comely token ; 
 
 6 
 
82 edena; oe, the doom 
 
 O'er him a monument did raise 
 
 Which now lies low and sadly broken— 
 From top to low foundation riven, 
 By[the descending shaft of heaven ! 
 Betraying, by that bursting blow, 
 What hopes oft lull our faith to woe. 
 That with the humble, low and small, 
 Proud, earthly greatness too must fall. 
 
 XVIII. 
 " But I was come Lord of the Fee, 
 O'er all the isle to the far sea, 
 
 And vassalage was proud to claim 
 The feudal prestige of my name. 
 That tokened to them days of fame. 
 With hasting heart that boded glad. 
 My ocean barque prepare, I bade, 
 And eagerly in pride I sought 
 The influence that lured my thought — 
 Edena'S smile. I reach her home, 
 To claim my own, but she was gone. 
 Gone far, nor had she left behind, 
 One token or memento kind. 
 Of hours and love's that rayed the past, 
 Indellibly on memory glassed. 
 Wherefore should tongue e'er tell the tale 
 Of woes which nothing will avail ! 
 But there be griefs which have no tongue. 
 
 No words which teU of their import. 
 But sighs from out the boson wrung, 
 
 The spirit's sure and lone resort. 
 And these not alway may reveal 
 The griefs which deeper hearts conceal. 
 
 XIX. 
 *' It may be that when the first blast 
 Along my anguished soul had passed. 
 And I was rising from the blow, 
 
That had miswrought my overthrow ; 
 
 It may be that I did deride 
 
 Her who had vowed to be my bride ; 
 
 Derided her, and scorning spurned 
 
 Her memory, which searing burned 
 
 Into my heirt, and scorched my soul 
 
 With misery beyond control ; 
 
 For but to hate those once well loved, 
 
 Is pestilence upon the brain, 
 Or like volcanic fires uphoved, 
 
 To strew with ruins dire the plain, 
 Where loveliness and betiuty slept, 
 And happiness her bowers kept. 
 I strove her image to eraso 
 
 From out the mirror of my mind, 
 And from my memory to chase 
 
 Her name, and her endearments kind. 
 'Twas natural, and 'neath the sun, 
 Had acted most as I had done ; 
 And of all men but few be there 
 Who such a fate may meekly bear. 
 'Twas nathless all, and I had thought 
 To visit fields where honor foui^ht, 
 And borne abroad on battle's wave, 
 Seek out to me a sword- hewn grave, 
 Forgetting in my death the blow 
 She gave, to consecrate my woe; 
 With hopeful wisk throughout it all, 
 That she would soon hear of my falK 
 Regretfully, and doom and press 
 Her falser heart to heaviness. 
 
 XX. 
 " But rumor came and various flung 
 Strange thoughts and whispers from her tongue, 
 And from the varid scope I gleaned 
 That which my soul had never dreamed 
 
 I 
 
84 edena; ok, the doom 
 
 That my Edena had been wooed 
 
 By thee, but never won. In vain 
 To her, I heard that thou hadst sued ; 
 
 Her heart and hand thou couldst not gain. 
 Because her love in sworn estate, 
 Based on my heart its ante-date, 
 And never had her hand resigned 
 The grace-gift of her heart and mind. 
 But that her sire's high-plumed pride 
 Commanded her to be thy bride, 
 Aud 80 augment his feudal name. 
 By grafting on it one of fame. 
 
 XXI. 
 " And she obeyed with shrouded heart, 
 Thus from her only love to part, 
 And sore unwillingly was led 
 To grace thy sacrificial bed. 
 Oh 1 it were better had she died, 
 And passed away in her young prido, 
 As epring-time bloom too early dead, 
 Of pomegranate ablast and dried, 
 That cabts the token of its hope 
 Scarce ere it buds and swells to ope ; 
 Or like the tinted hue of morn 
 That 'thwart the early sky is drawn, 
 "When tinged Aurora in her car, 
 Pursues the ling'ring of the star. 
 And throws her spangled glories back 
 Upon the sun's advancing track. 
 But fades away scarce ere the eye 
 Can trace the hue tints on the sky ; 
 Oh ! it were best had thus she died I 
 Than to have lived to be thy bride ; 
 'Tis true, I loved with wild desire, 
 
 And gave my heart to feed the flame, 
 "Which constant blazed as a watch fire. 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 85 
 
 Around the temple of her name. 
 'Tis (rue, I lived but for her sigh, 
 And breathed the light that rayed her eye, 
 
 Ab though my life were centered there ; 
 Yet I would gladly seen her die — 
 
 Though such might work ray own despair, 
 And heard her last depar ing cry 
 
 "Wail out upon the startled air — 
 However dark such wish may be — 
 Than to have given her up to thee. 
 To thee, my heart's most mortal foe, 
 Who galled it with such scathing woe, 
 And poured within its throbbing wall 
 Such lava floods of grief and gall. 
 
 XXII. 
 "Now, when those things were understood, 
 I thirsted yet more for thy blood, 
 A twofold cause together blent, 
 
 That drove me on, thy heart to slay. 
 I followed fast with deep intent. 
 
 To challenge thee with deadly brand, 
 And snatch Edena from thy hand ; 
 
 But better wisdom made me stay 
 
 The hasting deed with more delay. 
 I deemed also that I would deal 
 A double stroke to make thee reel, 
 Hurled at thee with my greatest might; 
 
 'Twas first to 'reft thee of thy wife — 
 Edena, I so well adored. 
 That even her shadow was my light — 
 
 And then avenge me on thy life, 
 
 By thy heart's deepest tide out-poured, 
 That tide more dark than the black wavo 
 Kevenge e'er rolled o'er victim's grave. 
 But I have failed ; yet, yet I know 
 'Twere worth the risk of mortal blow, 
 
86 edena; or, the doom 
 
 And he has little heart I deam, 
 Who is content to pause and dream, 
 And emptily bemoan his fate, 
 Without the strength to cast the weight 
 That bears his harrowed heart away 
 In listlessness and worst decay. 
 
 XXIII. 
 *' I sought Edena, and I found 
 To me her hope was close lier bound ; 
 Her heart suppressed by the false tie, 
 Uetnncd to its repentant sigh, 
 Aiid voiled away from thine own eye, 
 But only yearned that I were nigh. 
 Thus much in rapturous delight 
 I learned first assignation night, 
 And many since the times we've met, 
 When from the vault the day had set. 
 And the high stars at twilight's gloam 
 Ilad won their stations on the dome ; 
 Full often her rich lip I have pressed, 
 And shrined my head upon her breast, 
 Or folding her in my embrace, 
 'Eapt by the bloom light of her grace. 
 Which Jove himself might not deride. 
 
 Adored the one I held so dear. 
 But yet one thought marred all my bliss, 
 That thou usurp'dst a claim in this ; 
 That thou thouldst keep my life's own bride, 
 Aud gall the triumph of my pride; 
 
 And all my spirit thus to sear, 
 More bitterly than poisoned stroke 
 That wrath of serpent may evoke, 
 
 Abhorrent in revenge or fear — 
 Yet over all there was a thought. 
 Vast consolation to me brought — 
 Revenge and triumph over theo, 
 
Preluding vengeance yet to be, 
 When I had borne Edena home 
 From the repulsion of thy dome — 
 For mighty is tho power I wield 
 O'er warrior men on buttle field, 
 And marshal to the feudal plain 
 A thousand vassals in my train, 
 Whose banner never yet has flown 
 But over foemen prostrate thrown ; 
 And had Edena with me fled, 
 I had returned with clansmen true, 
 
 As over chief in battle led, 
 To charge the daring onslaui^ht through, 
 Or cheered to the wild bugle blown. 
 To ravage thj^ paternal land, 
 With better npcar and juster brand, 
 Than e'er was fitted to thy hand, 
 In tournament or mortal joust ; 
 Such had I come with hate and shout, 
 To pay the double debt i owe. 
 With its accumulated woe ; , 
 Fulfilling all the plotted scheme. 
 Which was my fonder hope and dream. 
 
 XXIV. 
 " But I shall fall not unatoned, 
 That oven now thy pride has owned — 
 I have but paid, in part, the same 
 Which thou hast given to my shame; 
 Though darkly dying to my fall, 
 I leave a cup of bitter gall, 
 Whose curst, repulsive, burning wave 
 Thy own proud scorning lip shall lave, 
 And rankle darkly till in death. 
 Thou heave thy last wild choking breath ; 
 And as the demon doth caress thee. 
 The mad'ning thought will then oppress thee; 
 
88 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Tho igh foiled my triumph, I can die 
 
 With a high soul and unchanged eye; 
 
 It shall not now, though here I stand, 
 
 Disarmed and guarded by thy band, 
 
 Yield homa«;e to thy power, or throne; 
 
 Debased, submissive to my foe, 
 
 I neither cringe, nor b'end, nor bow, 
 
 To thee nor any such as thou ; 
 
 And wreak thy vengeance, do thy might ; 
 
 I'd rather look for kindness wrought 
 Within some ghoul's unholy breast, 
 
 With horrid greed for tomb feast fraught, 
 To revel o'er the dead by night 
 In his immortal greed's despair, 
 Than find in thee the smallest share 
 
 Of mild commiseration's thought. 
 XXY. 
 " But even if thou shouldej^t forgive, 
 I have not that for which to live; 
 My soul is given to despair ! 
 And rather yould I heed thy boon 
 As something darker than thy doom, 
 Sinct) she, than life or hope more fair, • 
 Is like the things of death that were ; 
 
 Thy pity 1 can never take, 
 
 If such within thee might awake; 
 Thy hatred I can bravely bear. 
 
 And all the gall it may express ; 
 Tho worst thou raayest now impose, 
 Is nothing to my sated woes ; 
 And though I die, my hope has died, 
 Arabiiion, all, but not my pride. 
 
 Nor yet my love, but all things less 
 Have ceased to wake, or spur or dream, 
 And make me but what I now seem 
 
 And am, a living nothingness. 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOYER. 89 
 
 Nor yet does the regret, 
 
 For my pa8t life come o'er me now ; 
 'Tie ended or its hour is brief. 
 
 And sorrow with subjected brow 
 Pale worn, comes not in anguish vailed, 
 
 For deeds attempt or hopes unwon ; 
 But that my schemes o'er thee have failed, 
 
 Is only the regret I vow. 
 The only grief that I can feel, 
 Except her hope avulsed and mine, 
 
 That since our ill-fraught love begun 
 Has been subvert and curst by thine, 
 
 That wilt9 the bloom grace of her brow 
 
 Seiired as a leafless, flowerless bough. 
 That from the scathing storm must reel I 
 
 And what I've done I but have done ; 
 Let whoso will, repent and kneel, 
 And start the unavailing sigh. 
 As is my past so shall I die, 
 Nor fear I the grave's fiend to cope ; 
 
 Nor shall the deeds and the thoughts of life, 
 Except my last and broken hope, 
 
 Convulse and darken o'er the strife; 
 
 And as the last of all my race, 
 Whose compass is an hour's scope, 
 
 Thy triumph shall but ill efface 
 What all was theirs and is mine still. 
 That conquerlops, unbroken will 
 The blood gift of the haughty line 
 Whose name extinguished dies with mine 
 But darker on thy brow shall glow 
 The guilt stains of my hour of woo, 
 Kepulsive shadows to abide 
 Aid mar thy haughtiness of pride ; 
 And Diay my last breath take the shape 
 
 Of ghoul, or fiend, of form the worst, 
 
90 
 
 edena; oe, the doom 
 
 From which thou never mayst escape, 
 
 And goad thee till thou'rt more than curst ; 
 
 And revel on thy soul, and drink 
 
 The last drop from the parched brink 
 Of thy mad heart, and sear thy brain, 
 Till thou bo more than curst again, 
 
 Long doomed into the grave to sink." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 He ceases, and his voice nor low, 
 Nor high, but firm, yet neither slow, 
 Nor yot too fast, on the ear breaks ; 
 As warlike and repulsive snakes, 
 Coiled horrent on iho poisoned grass, 
 Kehiss and rustle, and whose mass 
 Of foul corruption more appalls. 
 
 As their dread hisses grating near 
 
 Rethreaten on the startled ear. 
 Ev'n 80 the voice of Ulwin falls. 
 And each of all who hoar his tones, 
 His firmness and his heart disowns, 
 
 In dread and supernatural fear, 
 And shuddering, but seem to think, 
 They feel the curso begin to sink. 
 
 And scathe and sear, 
 From which instinctively they ehrink 
 
 As from embodied horror drear, 
 
 Too like, too real, till then unheard, 
 The wizard type like of each word, 
 As 't rose or fell in gloomy surd. 
 But in Lord Udo's iron breast. 
 Those weird tones can find no rest ; 
 But scarcely to the surface go. 
 The weight of those wild words of woo, 
 Which strike, but mark not as thoy fall. 
 As leaps the spear from 'leaguercd wall. 
 
XXVII. 
 And Ulwin seeks Edena's eye, 
 If how she may as bravely die ; 
 
 If that her heart will bear her on 
 
 Till this wild tragedy be done, 
 Whose la&t act shadows darkly nigh ; 
 She gaiHs small courage from that look ; 
 Too weak her heart such doom to brook, 
 
 And shrinks, if 't could, the Ailling blow ; 
 Yet calmly beautiful she smiles 
 
 An instant 'mid her hopoless woe. 
 Indifference to fate's dark wiles, 
 'Ti3 onij broken pride that waits 
 The dread decision of the fitcs 
 
 That frown to crush her heart below; 
 Dread jet is on her soul, and fear, 
 With pale chill eye is crouching near ; 
 Bat sorrow, spite of dread despair, 
 Recalls the pure bright days that were, 
 And in memoriana to bring 
 Joys of the past now withering, 
 
 And thoughts of other days come on, 
 
 Blest prototypes of long agone, 
 And freshness o'er her bosom fling, 
 And to her dull despair they give 
 A lingering hope and wish to live ! 
 Oh ! beauty never yet may die, 
 And quit green earth without a sigh ; 
 Oh ! youthfulness may scarcely tell 
 To life's young memories, farewell I 
 Oh ! pride, ambition, fame, has thou 
 No grace for the unlaurelled brow? 
 That falls too early to the tomb 
 E'er hope's spring bud has burst its bloom I 
 
 XXVIII. 
 And Udo gazes on them now ; 
 
93 EBENX; OE, THE DOOM 
 
 Inflexile is his stern, knit brow; 
 In the fixod murtcles of his face 
 No faint mobility ye trace ; 
 Unchangeable, immoved and fa^t 
 As visage from the glacier cast. 
 So still he sits, bat yet he shows 
 Nor signs nor boding of his woes ; 
 But yet below the surface there 
 Eage all the night storms of despair, 
 
 Of hate, and grief, and woe, and pride, 
 
 And all that burn, and gall beside, 
 
 Or leer repulsire to deride ; 
 Yet on the outline of his face 
 They shad )w not the faintest trace ; 
 So oft a day when not a breeze 
 Breaks on the surface of the seas, 
 Nor may the slightest ripple show 
 The faint direction of its flow, 
 Yet far beneath the watery clime. 
 There foul shaped monsters stir the slime, 
 Unsightly beasts and formg which take 
 All fashions of repulsive make 
 Abhorrent, but abhorred nor less. 
 And rage in all their hideousness 
 Below the placid of the wave, 
 
 That sho veth not the monsters 'neath; 
 Though never yet so foul they rave 
 
 With torture's lip and demon teeth, 
 And heave the foulsome slime and clay 
 . To murkiness in their affray — 
 Ev'n so beneath calm Udo's breast 
 Dire passions rage in 'curst disrest. 
 
 XXIX. 
 But now his eyen survey the troop, 
 
 With ominous, foreboding glance. 
 
 That glintoth like the broad spear lance, 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 93 
 
 When foemen to the battle swoop ; 
 
 And from the throng ho singles now 
 
 Five vassalmen of iron brow, 
 
 Of such as have the heart and nerve 
 
 To his stern will and never swerve; 
 
 Swart-eyed and fierce their features glower, 
 
 As does revenge in its worst hour ; 
 
 And rude they bind the captives' hands 
 
 Securely with the hempen bands, 
 
 In many a loop contorting tied, 
 
 And hard drawn knots rebraced and wide. 
 
 Proud Ulwin's bosom heaves apace. 
 
 Indignant at this last disgrace, 
 
 That prudence only gives, as when 
 
 Is bound the serf in felon den. 
 
 Oh I but the half of his brave clan 
 
 That warlike guards his castle Whagn ! 
 
 Beyond retrieve upon his foe. 
 
 His bursting vengeance would he throw, 
 
 And cast his soul into the blow, 
 
 And pour his raging hatred out 
 
 "With blade and flame and banner shout. 
 
 And vindicate his nobler name 
 
 From this disgrace and felon shame. 
 
 And free his peerless bride that waits, 
 
 "With him this death-doom of the fates I 
 
 XXX. 
 Edena, like the shorn bloom vine 
 With tendrils broken thai would twine, 
 Leans on her Ulwin for support — 
 To claim it now seems all but sport. 
 So fearful is the contrast now 
 To that beneath tha greenwood bough, 
 When in the honor of his pride. 
 He called her his own noble bride ; 
 Her bosom shrinks and quails in fear. 
 
94 edena; ok, the doom 
 
 FrGin the grave's shadows gloomy near, 
 In whose thick vapors all revealed 
 The dread uncertainties concealed. 
 Yet while she leans upon his breast, 
 She feels assurance in its rest, 
 As on her pale-hued lips is pressed, 
 And tenderly upon her brow, 
 
 One fervent, long and token kiss, 
 
 Meraoriam of their dead bliss. 
 Unless that which is left them now, 
 Together in death's vale to bow. 
 
 More wished than woe prolonged like this. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And sternly, darkly, Udo smiles 
 
 In stern and grim unearthliness, 
 
 The prototype of his distress, 
 Of stronger hate and deeper wiles--* 
 His spirit trembles, and his heart 
 Upheaves as if to break apart, 
 With th' emotions which seem to tear 
 The life-roots from his bosom there. 
 And does soft pity move its way, 
 And o'er his bosom challenge sway, 
 
 As over one who oft repents, 
 Or failings, faults, or sin forgives ? 
 No, no, they cannot, while he lives, 
 Survive ; the earth, though wide it be. 
 May not contain the hostile three. 
 On 'ts exile bosom ; they must fall 
 
 And expiate their dark offense 
 With shrouding grave and umbered pall ! 
 Ah ! but what business has he now 
 In pity, his high heart to bow ? 
 They never valued his distress, 
 Nor even now to make it less. 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 95 
 
 Insult to injury they throw, 
 
 And they shall harvest its full woe ! 
 
 xxxir. 
 
 The troubled vassals gather near 
 
 With heart forebodings in their fear, 
 
 But the Avild staring of the eye 
 
 Is all the questions and reply, 
 
 Saved smothered sobs, and heart-toned sighs 
 
 Rebacking on the ear ai*ise, 
 
 Like echoes from foreboding tomb, 
 
 As pity weeps and sorrow groans, 
 
 With unavailing, empty moans. 
 
 But they can only weep, no power 
 
 Save Udo's rules the umbered hour ; 
 And fierce returning vengeance plume 
 Ilantrs darkly o'er the deepening gloom, 
 
 As the black pall that veils the breast, 
 
 Of him borne to the graveyard's rest. 
 
 Hark ! from the turret looming high, 
 
 Bodes on the ear the raven's cry, 
 
 Hoarse, startling out upon the air, 
 
 In broken notes of sad despair. 
 
 A midnight requiem, drear and lone, 
 
 O'er those two hearts whose past is gone ; 
 
 Whose future hasting, dim and wan 
 
 Draws in its compass to a span. 
 
 They hear it, shrinking as it falls. 
 
 Upon their ear as death note palls ; 
 
 A Avild, funeral dirge, which breaks 
 
 And jars the soul as it awakes ; 
 
 But its drear echoings are passed, 
 
 Like a dark thought or sudden blast, 
 
 That comes upon us and is gone 
 
 Scarce ere we know that it is come ! 
 
 It rouses Udo, with a start 
 
 Which sends the pulse back to his heart ; 
 
96 EDENA.; OR, THE DOOM 
 
 He list the weird phantom tone 
 "Wiih feelings that he may not own. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 Like specters brooding o'er the grave, 
 Edena stands, and Ulwin brave, 
 And pleased withal, since they must die, 
 That each to other will be nigh, 
 And not apart condemned to tread 
 The lone d^rk regions of the dead, 
 Companionless ; and they await, 
 That stroke of jealousy and hate, 
 With something of indifference. 
 
 Which death oft to its victim gives ; 
 "Which swells in pride and ne'er repents 
 
 But addeth strength while yet it lives. 
 'Tis so with him, whose dauntless eye 
 
 Unconquered gazes on his foe, 
 But she shrinks pale with stifled cry, 
 
 Half cowering to the ground below. 
 One strong in pride and dares to die ; 
 The other, faint that death is nigh. 
 Beneath its falling shadows now. 
 
 Her heart within her breast is dead. 
 And faintness shows it on her brow. 
 
 With snow hued paleness overspread. 
 She trembles like the bloom tree shakes. 
 When o'er its head the whirlwind breaks 
 And as its scattered flowers there. 
 So fall her tear drops in despair ; 
 And all the courage which she feels, 
 Is only but what he reveals. 
 A kind of frenzied sympathy ' • 
 
 Example gives to those who die, 
 
 XXXIV. 
 With a slight movmg of the hand 
 To Stanwold, Udo gives command. 
 
As silently he points to where 
 Stand Ulwin and Edena there ; 
 His husky voice but scarce is heard 
 To give the di'ead and fatal word, 
 That word on which so oft has turned 
 The doom of life, scarce while it burned, 
 That old feudality and pride. 
 On power conferred in castle wide. 
 And shuddering, each bosom pales ; 
 The heart-throbs cease, the dim eye quails. 
 As Staxvv'OLd's voice, averse and low, 
 Yet firm in accents, measured slow, 
 Gives the command which seems to boom, 
 
 Although low spoken and just heard, 
 Re-echoing into the gloom. 
 
 Like warrior's commanding word. 
 XXXV. 
 The swordsmen now with steady hands 
 Draw from the sheaths th' atoning brands, 
 Like bars of flame upon the sight 
 They flash in the obscuring light. 
 And oft those lengthen blades they hold, 
 Now fierce and broadly bared, have told 
 The victim's death-doom when his cry 
 Found only echo for reply ; 
 And vassalage but scantly gave 
 Beyond the wall a scarce shrived grave. 
 With solemn mien and huge they stand, 
 O'er the pale ones at either hand. 
 Who, now together kneeling there, 
 This one in pride, and that in prayer ; 
 This one, although too proud to bend, 
 Yet kneels, his loved one to defend, 
 If such may be ; about her waist 
 His vain supporting arm is placed, 
 And all the deathless of his eye 
 
98 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Burns courage in hers drooiDing nigh. 
 
 Scarce is the moment born and died, 
 As the avengers raise on high 
 
 Their blades, which sweep the air awide 
 In momentary range, and course 
 
 Oblique, descending flash 
 Downward in swift unerring force 
 
 Upon their unvailed heads and crash 
 With audible and heavy stroke : 
 But instant with the falchion gleam, 
 And ere the bursting blood out broke. 
 There comes upon the baleful air 
 A cry of measureless despair, 
 A groan, a struggling and a scream, 
 Revolting as a maniac's dream, 
 And something troubles more.than fear, 
 Or phantom's terror spell might seem — 
 A shuffling and a deaden sound. 
 As both sink lifeless to the ground 
 Reknell the close of their career. 
 
 XXXYI 
 The scenes have passed ; thoir drama o'er; 
 They give the lip-loved kiss no more, 
 Nor ray with sympathetic .eyes, 
 Their hearts now cold to lovo-toncd sighs. 
 And gently — cans't thou ? o'er their fall, 
 Drape down commiseration's pall, 
 As moves thy hund in baste to spread 
 Oblivion's dusk vail o'er the dead, 
 As thickly woven, dark and t.!enso. 
 As they have fallen to glooms intense, 
 But yet, if such thou maycst bestow-— 
 Though righteous and deserved the blow--- 
 Forgive the fault that won their woo 
 
 In the Spring bloom of tneir career. 
 Concealing with thy hand, as now 
 
OF THE BRIDE AND HER LOVER. 99 
 
 Its shadow falls athwart thy brow, 
 
 The grace gifc of a kindly tear, 
 Porchance as true, as warmly kind, 
 As pity's loftier drop, refined 
 O'er a nobler dream of grace enshrined, 
 
 That virtue weeps in sorrow near. 
 Than those two hearts whose day was lost 
 In worse eclipse ere it baa crossed 
 Its midway sphere, and 'neath the doom 
 Of fate sank back to midnight gloom. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 But even at the early tomb, 
 
 Where those two lovers never parted ; 
 Those fair young forms in love-light's bloom 
 
 When happy loving and light hearted. 
 True even to life's latest breath— 
 
 Eegraced in ev'ry comely grace, 
 
 So oft had given the dear embrace, 
 Forgot, lorewent it cot in death ; 
 But as their hearts ere life was through, 
 Has pulsed harmonious and true, 
 
 When laid together in the grave 
 They closer and yet closer grew, 
 
 As not unmindful what they gave, 
 Embraced as they had often done, 
 And moulded love-!ike into one ; 
 Triumphing even in death, the tomb 
 Confirmed their nuptials in its gloom; 
 Its vault their marriage couch, but there. 
 No torch beamed forth its merry glare, 
 No smiles for them, no witness save 
 The conscious darkness of the grave, 
 Which curtains with its gloom and lone, 
 The only couch which they could own. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 And long, long years have umbered past, 
 And on that tomb their shadows cast, 
 
100 edena; or, the doom 
 
 Yet naught disturba the umbered rest 
 
 Of silence brooding o'er its breast, 
 
 Save when the night glooms o'er the vale, 
 
 Sad plaintive notes sigh on the gale, 
 
 And seem to chant through the night-long 
 
 Some lone and melancholy song, 
 
 A thronody for those who fled 
 
 With love's lost hope back to the dead ; 
 
 And drooping willows sadly wave 
 
 Their frail branches o'er the grave, 
 
 Be-glooming with their baleful shade 
 
 Where low, love's sacrifice was laid ; 
 
 Sad monuments and planted there 
 
 To cenotaph the dead's despair, 
 
 By some stealth hand in sympathy, 
 
 Long after they had ceased to bo ; 
 
 And there a flower bending pale, 
 
 Bedews with tears the shrouded vale. 
 
 And by its side a frailer one. 
 
 That shuns the star-light or the sun, 
 
 Of weaker stem, yet fairer brow, 
 
 It shrinks beneath the other's bough ; 
 
 And twined in sympathy's embrace, 
 
 They sentinel the haunted place. 
 
 Faint lighting with their conquered glow 
 
 The shrine of hapless love and woe ! 
 
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