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ADA. 
 
 I Calr. 
 
 BY "JANVIER. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 THOMAS, COWPERTHWAIT & Co. 
 
 1852. 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, 
 
 By J. J. Woodward, 
 
 in the Clerk's OfiB.ce of the District Court, for the Eastern District of 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
ADA— A TALE. 
 
 Canto I. 
 
 When bitterness succeeds to joy, 
 Success distracts, and pleasures cloy ; 
 When every stream at which we sip. 
 Brings poison to the fevered lip ; 
 Or like the apple of the waste, 
 Is turned to ashes as we taste ; 
 And o'er the breast that time benumbs 
 A fixed and settled coldness comes : 
 When loves, so deeply now estranged. 
 And lovely faces now so changed, 
 Whose beauty was too fair to last, 
 Rise up, and taunt us with the past ; 
 
4 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 The joys forgot, the pleasures dead, 
 The burning passions that have fled : 
 We look back feebly o'er the strife, 
 _And weary of our aimless life, 
 Shrink from the hum and noise of men, 
 And dream our boyhood o'er again ; 
 Those restless days when hope was high, 
 And pride defied all destiny, 
 Or power of earth, or hell, or height. 
 To check it in its dizzy flight. 
 In age, the soul that once rose high. 
 No longer flashes from the eye. 
 With the same proud, and dauntless air. 
 And earnest front it used to wear ; 
 The pulse grows faint, the shattered frame. 
 And wasted limbs are not the same, 
 That wrestled in life's ceaseless stir ; 
 And we are not what once we were ; 
 But all the feebleness of years, 
 The wrinkles worn by viewless tears. 
 The fearful wasting of the night. 
 Of those who sicken in the fight, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Who fade and die by slow degrees, 
 Is nothing to the fell disease, 
 The blight — the unnamed, dark decay 
 With which earth's noblest waste away ; 
 Long ere the chill of years comes grim, 
 The flash of their dark eyes grows dim ; 
 And fiery passions lulled to rest, 
 Leap up no longer in the breast ; 
 Chilly and sceptical and dark. 
 They drift on like a storm-tost bark, 
 Mastless and shroudless on the wave. 
 Where all its gay hopes found a grave ; 
 And yet all shattered as it seems, 
 Strength teeming in its paintless beams. 
 Enough amidst their wild alarms 
 To weather out a host of stornjs : 
 Becalmed beneath the burning skies. 
 Long drifting on the wave it lies, 
 And though no longer tempest-tost. 
 Aimless and purposeless, and lost. 
 One of the older feudal lords, 
 A scion of the lawless hordes, 
 
6 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Who bearing with them sword and flame, 
 From Normandy to Britain came, 
 Serene and solemn in its might, 
 Built a strong castle on a height 
 That rising proudly from the ground 
 Overlooked the land for leagues around. 
 To guard his friends — defy his foes, 
 In the light air the turrets rose, 
 That should survive the storms and fears, 
 The slow decay of wasting years ; 
 The wintry wind in passing by. 
 Its massive battlements might sigh. 
 And in its architecture trace 
 A tombstone of the conquered race. 
 Whose hovels shadowed by the brand. 
 Were scattered over the aching land ; 
 A land whose bosom spread abroad 
 A mirror of the smile of God, 
 With dimpling vale and silent bay. 
 That glowing to the sunshine lay. 
 Told nothing of the deep despair, 
 The anguish of the heartaches there. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 
 
 They sighed as their tall sons were ta'en, 
 
 The noblest youths upon the plain, 
 
 For menials in the spoiler's train ; 
 
 And their young daughters snatched awaj 
 
 To be the conqueror's helpless prey ; 
 
 But the strong souls of those who bled 
 
 With Harold in the fight, was dead. 
 
 Deeply their tyrants they abhorred, 
 
 But bore their yoke and drew no sword, 
 
 And if with glazed and haggard eye, 
 
 They called down curses from on high 
 
 The heavens that heard their muttered words 
 
 Sent down no curses on their lords. 
 
 Since these wild days of doubts and tears, 
 
 Have swiftly sped the wasting years. 
 
 The racking winds with sure decay 
 
 Have worn away the turrets grey ; 
 
 Tempests and bursting storms have rent 
 
 Deep breaches in each battlement ; 
 
 A monument of former crimes. 
 
 It stands to lesson other times ; 
 
 The same old wind comes softly by 
 
 1* 
 
8 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Its mouldering walls with sullen sigh, 
 But bears no war-cry from the wall, 
 No roar of wassail from the hall : 
 Its lovely places, where of eld 
 Their courts the Norman nobles held, 
 Who put in steel alone their trust. 
 Have mouldered darkly into dust ; 
 Serpents and loathsome things have crept 
 And made their home where beauty slept. 
 In soft framed bowers, of gay delight. 
 That then were lovely to the sight. 
 Kind nature weeping o'er the scene 
 Has sent the ivy — ever-green. 
 To clamber every crumbling wall 
 And sit upon it like a pall ; 
 The mosses that long years have grown, 
 Take root on every mouldering stone 
 That year by year shall pass away 
 Slow, but too sure in that decay. 
 From every covered nook about 
 The fat toads dozily peep out. 
 With heavy look and sullen eye. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 9 
 
 That mocks the years as they roll by, 
 On some high point that floats the sky 
 There sits the pirate dragon fly, 
 That broods over the deserted mound. 
 The terror of the insects round, 
 Fast on the undecaying rock, — 
 
 Like some strong soul that bears the shock. 
 And boldly braves the shivering force. 
 Of aching years and dark remorse ; 
 Whose passions were too quick to last. 
 It stands — a relic of the past. 
 The serfs who with a jealous eye, 
 First saw its strong walls reared on high 
 And viewed with hate its turrets grey. 
 In the long years have passed away : 
 They were not born to live as slaves. 
 And went down darkly to their graves. 
 Or mingling with the conquering hordes, 
 Were lost forever in their lords. 
 
 And they — the men of pride and power. 
 The noble masters of the tower. 
 The warlike sons of sunny France, 
 
10 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Skilled in the battle, and the dance, 
 
 Whose daughters delicately fair, 
 
 As pure-souled as their northern air, 
 
 With their pure spirits' gentle light, 
 
 Made those old castles seem so bright. 
 
 As the slow years rolled sadly on. 
 
 Passed — one by one 'till all have gone ; 
 
 They did not perish in the fight. 
 
 Where the fierce steels were flashing bright. 
 
 And fire and vengeance nerved each knight. 
 
 And blades were crossed and blows were dealt, 
 
 And shafts came with a pitiless pelt. 
 
 And fierce ranks fighting sternly stood. 
 
 Hot with the foeman's spouting blood, 
 
 Who fought and died, but did not yield, 
 
 Oh no, they fell not in the field ; 
 
 No stranger hordes came hurrying o'er 
 
 To deluge their fair land with gore, 
 
 A stronger and more warlike race, 
 
 To sweep them from the country's face ; 
 
 No pestilence with sullen stride, 
 
 Destroyed them in their gloomy pride, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 11 
 
 To be forgotten when they died. 
 
 For their misdeeds, no tempests frown, 
 
 God sent no sudden vengeance down. 
 
 But there went forth upon the land 
 
 A sickness of the heart and hand, 
 
 By which they withered day by day, 
 
 And faded — and so passed away. 
 
 The loving wife—the blooming bride — 
 
 One at a time their daughters died ; 
 
 Far foreign from their native spot, 
 
 In strangers shores, their homes forgot. 
 
 Pursued by some mysterious doom. 
 
 Their strong sons went down to the tomb, 
 
 Or childless in their hoary years. 
 
 Passed coldly from the world of tears, 
 
 Darkly, and sad, and full of doubt. 
 
 And thus each noble line died out ; 
 
 And as they passed, there took their place, 
 
 An other and less noble race. 
 
 Slaves and the children of the slaves, 
 
 Rose o'er their masters' silent graves ; 
 
 New banners floated on the blast. 
 
12 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Waved bj tlie bastards of the past, 
 Who sprung up into power instead 
 Of nobler races that were dead. 
 
 It was before the deep decay 
 Began to waste the turrets grey, 
 E'er yet the race began to fade, 
 That in succeeding years decayed, 
 It was the silent twilight hour. 
 The lordly master of the tower 
 Sate lonely in the bridal bower ; 
 For she to whom his heart was given, 
 Who made that spot his more than heav'n. 
 His own beloved — his blooming bride. 
 Long aching years ago had died. 
 He was not young when they were wed. 
 Else had he taken in her stead 
 Another bride when she was not, 
 And his deep grief had been forgot. 
 But he had loved with no light flame. 
 No boyish whim that time might tame. 
 But with the doubtings and the fears, 
 The fierce love of his riper years ; 
 
ADA — A TALE. 13 
 
 A little while his heart was blest, 
 Joy leaped up highly in his breast, 
 His bride returned his earnest flame, 
 Until alas, the spoiler came ; 
 A sickness with a silent might, 
 Went forth upon her like a blight. 
 A slow disease with crimson streak 
 Came flushing in her burning cheek ; 
 Her step grew languid day by day. 
 And fainter as she pined away ; 
 The breezes with their voiceless breath 
 Around her whispered her of death. 
 That soft as her confiding breast, 
 Came gently, and she went to rest. 
 No murmurs to her tongue there came. 
 No fierce convulsions shook her frame ; 
 He gazed upon his tender bride 
 As sleeping, in his arms she died, 
 Half deeming as he bowed his head. 
 And kissed the pale brow, that was dead ; 
 The kiss and invocations deep 
 Might wake her from her dreamless sleep. 
 
14 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 They came and snatched her from his arms 
 And bore away her pale, cold charms, 
 And took her to her early tomb, 
 A fair bud blighted ere its bloom. 
 He wept no tears — he did not rave, 
 But followed coldly to her grave, 
 And with a strange abstracted air 
 He saw them lay her darkly there ; 
 And then though every hope was gone. 
 And his heart quivered, he lived on. 
 What'er he felt for her who died 
 He hid it with his gloomy pride ; 
 However deeply he had loved. 
 He now at least appeared unmoved ; 
 Or if a single holier spark 
 Lurked in the bosom else so dark, 
 Ada, his dead love's only child 
 Woke those emotions deep tho' mild ; 
 Yet when he viewed her features fair. 
 And saw her mother's likeness there — 
 Although that made her still more dear 
 In his sad breast there came the fear, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 15 
 
 That she might sicken by his side, 
 
 And perish as her mother died ; 
 
 The heav'ns, whose God he had blasphemed, 
 
 Who heard more deeply than he deemed, 
 
 Surveyed him with a silent smile. 
 
 And held back vengeance — for a while. 
 
 He watched her with an eager eye. 
 
 And anxious heart — she did not die — 
 
 Her fresh warm bosom was not made 
 
 From earth so suddenly to fade ; 
 
 Perhaps some mission from on high. 
 
 Some great and noble destiny. 
 
 Was flashing in her glorious eye ; 
 
 Perhaps the spoiler only lent 
 
 These charms awhile, that when he sent 
 
 The messenger to call her hence 
 
 The anguish might be more intense ; 
 
 The trial fiercer, the despair 
 
 More deep and difficult to bear. 
 
 There as he sate if such thoughts rolled, 
 Through his full breast they were controlled : 
 
 And had you seen him there alone, 
 
 2 
 
6 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 All stolid with his brow of stone, 
 You had not dreamed how well he felt, 
 Each blow that fickle fortune dealt. 
 
 .The lordlj baron called a slave. 
 And to his hands this message gave : 
 To yonder turret hie thee hence 
 And bid my lady daughter thence. 
 The slave obedient to the word, 
 Went from the presence of his lord. 
 
 His lady daughter in her bower. 
 Far distant from her father's tower. 
 Looked forth o'er all the land abroad. 
 That teemed as with the breath of God, 
 And saw from hill-side far and nigh 
 The smoke go curling up on high. 
 And saw the weary-footed swain 
 Returning heavy o'er the plain, 
 As night with silent step came deep 
 Upon the land to lull to sleep. 
 The sounds of toil, the victor's songs, 
 The conquered people, and their wrongs. 
 The passion fires that do not die, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 17 
 
 Were burning deep in her dark eye ; 
 The passion hues that none can speak, 
 Were flushing hotly in her cheek — 
 The passion thoughts that do not rest, 
 Glowed deeply in her heaving breast. 
 As with a quick and earnest glance 
 She gazed across the vague expanse, 
 The heav'n with its ten thousand stars, 
 The gentle Venus, conquering Mars, 
 And all the countless hosts above 
 Looked down upon her dreamy love, 
 As they had looked from ancient years, 
 On dreamy loves, and real tears ; 
 There was a softness in the sky, 
 Like pity in a woman's eye ; 
 There was a sadness in the breeze, 
 That sighed along the quivering trees, 
 A tenderness in every shade. 
 Of the far prospects as they fade, 
 That as her eye, or feeling caught. 
 Comported deeply with the thought 
 Which in her gentle spirit dwelt 
 
18 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 As by the lattice there she knelt ; 
 Beside her lay her light guitar, 
 For he, her lover, was afar, 
 Who first had heard its tender tone 
 Waked with a rapture all its own, 
 When tinged with passion's rosy hue 
 Her heart was waked to rapture too. 
 In foreign lands that lover roved 
 Far distant from the maid he loved ; 
 The girded sword he wore was bright. 
 And nobly as became a knight. 
 He mixed in foreign brawls and jars, 
 And fiercely fought in foreign wars. 
 One stain that he could not efiace, 
 The blood drops of the conquered race 
 (Whose fettered millions chafed in chains) 
 That leaped up madly in his veins ; 
 In those old days of feudal pride. 
 Barred him forever from her side ; 
 Because within his breast he bore, 
 The blood of heroes gone befor — 
 The sturdy warriors of the past, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 19 
 
 Whose power and empire did not last ; 
 
 He was to Ada's dark-eyed sire, 
 
 Of haughty front and brow of fire — 
 
 A wretched serf without a name, 
 
 Devoted to eternal shame ; 
 
 The race of which he was the last, 
 
 Whose fame was brilliant in the past, 
 
 'Midst whose death-gaspings he was born 
 
 Become a hissing and a scorn, 
 
 A thing to catch the mocking eye 
 
 Of all the nations sitting by — 
 
 And curl their proud lips to a smile 
 
 As on the wreck they gazed awhile, — 
 
 A ghastly lesson for them all. 
 
 So vast the heigftt — so deep the fall ; 
 
 In wealth and power so fierce their pride. 
 
 So strong their struggling when they died, 
 
 So patient was their listless air — 
 
 So deep the night of their despair. 
 
 And Ada knew her father's look. 
 
 And felt how little he could brook. 
 
 In his proud heart that naught could move 
 2* 
 
20 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Such an aspirant for her love ; 
 
 He that had hoped to mate her hand, 
 
 With some proud noble of the land, 
 
 And in whose thoughts she well could trace 
 
 His hatred for the conquered race ; ' 
 
 His heart how fixed she knew too well, 
 
 His purpose how unchangeable, 
 
 And shades of thought came darkly o'er 
 
 The gay young face so bright before, 
 
 And deeply was there imaged there 
 
 The hue of grief, the mein of care ; 
 
 For no soft sister's gentle ear. 
 
 No friend's confiding breast was near, 
 
 To which to trust the love whose glow 
 
 And earnest being thrilftd her so, 
 
 So unperceived and unconfessed 
 
 She nursed it deeply in her breast. 
 
 Bowed to its sway without control 
 
 And let it sink into her soul. 
 
 Infuse its carelessness with care. 
 
 And tincture all the passions there. 
 
 She little dreamt that years could chill, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 21 
 
 The thoughts so deeply now that thrill ; 
 She little thought as moments rolled 
 O'er her quick breast, it would grow cold ; 
 For fate and aching time will»tame, 
 Our love, however fierce the flame ; 
 And absence chills, and in the hum 
 Of life, our passions go and come. 
 And are not what they were — and we 
 Are altered — oh how bitterly. 
 Even those who seem bound fast forever, 
 Whom chilling absence does not sever ; 
 Whose love might long outlive the tears, 
 The pleasures, and the griefs of years; 
 Although the dark fates do not frown. 
 Yet oh ! there cobles a coldness down, 
 And they end out their aching days, 
 Parted and cold, in devious ways ; 
 Or else resistless in its might. 
 Anger comes on them like a blight ; 
 A single word, a single look. 
 An act misnoticed, or mistook. 
 Sharp and resistless in its shock. 
 
22 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Shall part them like a shattered rock ; 
 Across their eyes where love should sit, 
 There shall a sullen shadow flit ; 
 Across their^ hearts that now are numb, 
 There shall an utter coldness come, 
 And other hopes and jojs be proved, 
 But neither love as once they loved ; 
 Too deeply sered in that fierce blast. 
 The spring of life for both has past ; 
 Yet sink they not in that despair, 
 But as the years pass, learn to bear. 
 The heav'ns whose burning eyes above, 
 Looked down upon their birth of love. 
 Beholds them with unbended will, 
 Struggling, and gazes on them still, 
 And breathes upon their hearts at length, 
 That strive thus a supernal strength, 
 More than their lips had dared to ask, 
 To frame and fit them for the task, 
 And stronger for the conflict then— 
 But let us to our tale again. 
 
 Her faint steps coming as a dream. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 23 
 
 So light and shadow-like they seem, 
 
 As softly through those sombre halls, 
 
 Each young foot with no echo falls ; 
 
 A trembling fire in each quick globe, 
 
 A wavy light in her filmy robe ; 
 
 Like some fair dove from her long day's roam. 
 
 Faintly at twilight coming home. 
 
 Came Ada through each long arcade ; 
 
 And every arch-way's sombre shade, 
 
 Made yet more gloomy by the night. 
 
 And now is in her father's sight. 
 
 Come to my arms, my child, he said, 
 God send down blessings on thy head, 
 Safe guard thee through this world of sin. 
 And make thee all she might have been ; 
 O'er her slight form his stern brow bowed, 
 And he saw near him, like a cloud. 
 And drank in with his blood-shot eye. 
 Dreams of the loves that were gone by : 
 Ada, he said, in this grey tower. 
 Too lonely is thy virgin bower, 
 Too rugged the rough slaves who toil, 
 
24 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And share with me the fight and spoil ; 
 And the rude country where we lie, 
 Always to vex thy sunny eye ; 
 So have I sought out for my child, 
 To bear her from this uncouth wild, 
 To climes more smiled on from above, 
 A husband worthy of her love ; 
 A noble chief whose recent scars, 
 Attest his courage in the wars. 
 And whose broad lands lie fair beneath 
 The quick south sun that warms the breath 
 Of the soft breezes that float by, 
 Rich with the odors of that sky ; 
 There 'midst the warbling of low lutes. 
 Guarded and loved as better suits 
 Thy gentle heart and tender frame, 
 'Midst luxuries that would put to shame, 
 The dreamy tales that monks have given 
 As visions of the joys of heaven ; 
 And loving those, that love as dear, 
 Shalt thou be far more blest than here ; 
 He said, and as he spoke he pressed 
 
ADA — A TALE. 25 
 
 His daughter trembling to his breast, 
 For a strange feeling coldly crept 
 O'er Ada, and she bowed and wept ; 
 It was perhaps her grief to dwell. 
 Apart from him who loved her well ; 
 It was perhaps her maiden fears. 
 That caused those earnest sobs and tears, 
 And each quick flush that fiercely came. 
 
 Across her fair face like a flame, 
 
 And passed and left her ashy pale ; 
 
 Tho' he had read another tale. 
 
 Had not the fierce thoughts of his mind, 
 
 And his emotions made him blind ; 
 
 For on her beauty gazing then. 
 
 The past came over him again, 
 
 And through his frame like lightning sped. 
 
 The vain old thoughts that were not dead. 
 
 Oh, had his bride but lived 'till now, 
 
 'Till age had laid upon her brow. 
 
 The chilly fingers of decay, 
 
 And swept her loveliest charms away ; 
 
 'Till coldness came into her eye. 
 
26 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And o'er the heart that once beat high 
 
 There settled down an apathy ; 
 
 His earnest love — his deathless truth, 
 
 Would have parsed from him with his youth, 
 
 But death whose hand did not efface, 
 
 The charms it snatched from his embrace ; 
 
 Around the past a halo shed, 
 
 For memory beautifies the dead ; 
 
 Thus loveliness immortal grew. 
 
 And love became immortal too ; 
 
 And thus amidst a world of tears, 
 
 'Midst racking strifes and aching years. 
 
 The futile passion never died — 
 
 Fixed and eternal as his pride. 
 
 To his vague dreams and thoughts of fire, 
 His lovely daughter left her sire, 
 'Midst sighs and tears to seek relief. 
 All melted and dissolved in grief. 
 For she whose gentle heart knew best. 
 The crooked passions of his breast. 
 Knew best how worse than vain to try 
 To change or warp her destiny. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 27 
 
 And like the needle to the star, 
 Her thoughts went out to him afar ; 
 How gone were every doubt and fear, 
 How high her hopes, were he but here. 
 
 But he beneath Italian skies 
 Reposing from the conflict lies. 
 There was soft music in his ear, 
 Whose soothing sounds he did not hear. 
 Because amidst the pleasing stir, 
 His thoughts still wandered back to her; 
 There were full forms that passed like dreams, 
 Where dark eyes cast seductive gleams. 
 Fiercely to tempt the weaker hour, 
 Of the young struggler after power ; 
 But whose fair mein and syren art 
 Could win no foot-hold in his heart ; 
 Because whene'er the weakness came 
 Voiceless and dreamlike o'er his frame, 
 The thought of her could check the flame, 
 And make his fainting bosom strong 
 To fight against the syren song 
 
 3 
 
28 ADA — ^A TALE. 
 
 Which woos with its enticing tongue 
 The languid footsteps of the young, 
 And finds so many fresh and gay, 
 And leaves them fainting by the way ; 
 Their patient strength, their courage stout, 
 Their overbearing will — worn out. 
 
 End of Canto I. 
 
ADA— A TALE. 
 
 Canto II. 
 
 The sun has sank, the day is o'er, 
 
 Faint comes the sea-breeze from the shore, 
 
 In the cold sky the moon is pale, 
 
 And softly sings the nightingale; 
 
 Reflected in the silent bay, 
 
 Upon whose breast no billows play. 
 
 The mirrored stars so calmly lie, 
 
 It seems a portion of the sky ; 
 
 Swift wheels the bat with crooked wing, 
 
 The insect tribes begin to sing. 
 
 And plume their dusk wings for the flight, 
 
 And sally forth and fill the night. 
 
30 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And there is teeming far and wide, 
 Around — above — on every side, 
 In the quick earth and trembling skj, 
 Full in its vast intensity. 
 To the deep soul its impress giving, 
 An earnest feeling so like living — 
 That one might deem the solitude. 
 The silent bay, the heaving wood. 
 The trembling earth — the wavy sod. 
 Were earnest with the soul of God ; 
 That at creation's throe of birth 
 Went strongly forth and filled the earth, 
 And brooded deeply o'er the wave. 
 And sate in every silent cave, 
 Filled each broad plain and forest wide, 
 Each fair shore dimpling to the tide, 
 Each rugged mass of granite hurled 
 Abruptly round the new born world ; 
 And every bright-lipped sunny isle, 
 Rejoicing in heaven's loveliest smile, 
 Whose balmy climate so well suits 
 Its rippling streams and mellow fruits. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 31 
 
 The sun has set, the day is o'er, 
 
 Dusk comes the night upon the shore. 
 
 O'er the low lands the shadows lie. 
 
 Save where sometimes the yellow sky. 
 
 Tints with its tinge the quivering leaves, 
 
 Of some lone oak grove that receives, 
 
 Faintly upon its moving might. 
 
 The heaven's pale lustre, cold but bright. 
 
 There to defy assailing foes. 
 
 Shadowy and vast the mountain rose, 
 
 On which the baron's castle stood 
 
 More distant from the silent flood ; 
 
 And thence the sounds went up on high, 
 
 Of music and of revelry. 
 
 As some gay fairy city bright. 
 
 The old grey castle teemed with light ; 
 
 From every gate the brightness gleams, 
 
 From every grating round it streams, 
 
 And from ten thousand torches set 
 
 On bulwark and on parapet. 
 
 Is flung abroad a redder glow. 
 
 Which tints the shadowy shapes below 
 
 3* 
 
32 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Of darkly gathered forest trees 
 Whose branches bow before the breeze, 
 And tinges many a sharp-edged rock 
 Whose granite strength has borne the shock 
 And thunderbolts of many a blast, 
 And many a storm in ages past. 
 
 In the old hall the merry sound, 
 The jest, the laugh, the bowl went round, 
 The aged servants of the house. 
 Led forward in the wild carouse ; 
 The old defenders of the keep, 
 Of the rich spicy wines drank deep. 
 And the grey echoing walls prolong 
 The hearty laugh and loud sung song : 
 Filled with the feast they felt the glow, 
 And knew no cares — how should they know ; 
 Their simple-minded, generous hearts. 
 Knew naught of the ten thousand arts 
 With which more polished men conceal 
 The thousand agonies they feel. 
 Up spoke a grey-haired warder then, 
 A rugged man 'midst rugged men, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And while his words were dashed with dread, 
 "Long live our noble lord!" he said, 
 "As free his hand, as strong his might, 
 And fierce as Lucifer in fight. 
 God grant long health and fortunes good, 
 And that long lasts his present mood." 
 "Yes," cried a yoeman tried and tough, 
 " As yet he has seemed stern enough ; 
 Ten years I've followed in his train. 
 O'er moss and moor, o'er flood and plain ; 
 I'd ask no stouter lord to guide, 
 After no bolder could I ride — 
 More quick of eye, or free from fear — 
 But he has little love of cheer ; 
 And smiles have never decked his brow. 
 Or wassail filled his halls till now." 
 Answered the warder's accents low, 
 " Good lack it was not always so ; 
 There was a time, long years gone by. 
 When gladness leaped up in his eye. 
 When none like him could lead the song 
 Or pass the wassail cup along ; 
 
34 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Or mix more jovially and free 
 
 In merriment and revelry. 
 
 Then this strong hold, and level shore, 
 
 A gay and pleasant aspect wore ; 
 
 And lords and ladies far and near, 
 
 Rode hitherward to share the cheer ; 
 
 Through every thick entangled place, 
 
 The baron boldly led the chase, 
 
 That swept o'er every hill's rough side. 
 
 And every forest dense and wide ; 
 
 While echoes far and near resound 
 
 The tramp of steed, and cry of hound. 
 
 Nor have these eyes that saw forgot. 
 
 How oft o'er every level spot. 
 
 Around the baron's proud abode, 
 
 The gallant lords and ladies rode. 
 
 With hawks oft loosed with sudden spring, 
 
 To strike the prey with rapid wing. 
 
 In its quick flight across the sky. 
 
 And bear it down to earth to die. 
 
 And then, oh merry times were they. 
 
 After the bustle of the day, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 35 
 
 As night closed in with solemn look, 
 
 The castle's strong grey bulwarks shook, 
 
 And the old starry skies were rent, 
 
 With wassail shouts and merriment. 
 
 Thus rolled the days their even tide. 
 
 Till lady Ada's mother died ; 
 
 Whate'er he may have suffered then, 
 
 Our lord was not the same again ; 
 
 His fiery eyes no grief evince. 
 
 But he has ne'er seemed merry since. 
 
 His looks were changed, his brow was bent, 
 
 More frequent to the fight he went. 
 
 And mingled with more bitter gall 
 
 In many a troubled border brawl ; 
 
 And measured oft'ner now his spear 
 
 With the marauding mountaineer, 
 
 But whether this because his grief 
 
 Found in such rugged fray relief. 
 
 And that — we know that such things are — 
 
 His spirit had grown fond of war. 
 
 Or whether that his long repose 
 
 Gave boldness to his northern foes. 
 
36 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And hence their bands with sword and flame 
 
 More frequent to the border came, 
 
 Whose foray he must needs repel, 
 
 They that know more than I, must tell. 
 
 But this at least we all allow, 
 
 There never was a darker brow — 
 
 A lip more ready to defy, 
 
 A sterner look, or fiercer eye." 
 
 "Ah well," a stalwart yeoman cried, 
 
 " I little like these men of pride. 
 Of handsome face and manner free — 
 A careless, easy lord for me ; 
 Such as the stranger knight whose horse, 
 Turned hitherward his rapid course, 
 Just at the fading of the light 
 Of the clear evening, yesternight. 
 How calmly on his manly face 
 Sat placid thoughts and martial grace ; 
 How goodly was his noble air, 
 Tho' worn his frame no doubt by care." 
 
 " Yet," cried the warder, " yet that brow 
 Has seemed less light at times than now ; 
 
ADA — A TALE. 37 
 
 The bridegroom says — in foreign lands 
 He's seen him heading trusty bands. 
 Or striving with a stern delight 
 Full in the thickest of the fight, 
 And striking blows of fearful might — 
 So boldly as he firmly stood, 
 That he must be of gentle blood : 
 And yet for some strange whim his tongue 
 Ne'er told the line from which he sprung ; 
 Perhaps for some dark error done, 
 Th' avengers thus he seeks to shun ; 
 Perhaps his high ancestral name 
 Dimmed by defeat, or soiled by shame ; — 
 However, once it has been clear, 
 Brings guilt or sorrow to his ear ; 
 But none could tell him which were true, 
 And this was all the bridegroom knew." 
 "Good mates, no doubt," the other said, 
 " Their wild conjectures were misled ; 
 The desperate strife, the battle's brlint 
 Have set no fierceness on his front. 
 No devil's glance, no moody air, 
 No dark-browed restlessness is there. 
 
38 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Such as still mark, say what thou wilt, 
 
 The features of the man of guilt ; 
 
 For those whose youth is passed in crime, 
 
 Bear its bald marks throughout all time, 
 
 The look of darkness in the eye. 
 
 One shudders at, unknowing why ; 
 
 The hollow shadows in the cheek. 
 
 The tone of fierceness when they speak ; 
 
 Of gentle look and glances bright. 
 
 Far otherwise this goodly knight ; 
 
 And if at times he turns away. 
 
 His face, where smiles have ceased to play, 
 
 With an unutterable look, 
 
 As if his frame with sorrow shook — 
 
 One moment and his brow is clear. 
 
 The shades of feeling disappear. 
 
 And he is seen like other men. 
 
 Resolved and strong and calm again : 
 
 Well framed he seems to know the art, 
 
 Of winning woman's fickle heart. 
 
 And doubtless some dark pair of eyes. 
 
 Causes the sorrow and disguise." 
 
ADA — A TALE. 39 
 
 Answered the warder — " Hold, our words 
 Grow rather free ahout our lords ; 
 Should all this reach the baron's ear, 
 Our gossiping would cost us dear ; " 
 He said and raised a mighty bowl, 
 And poured the liquor on his soul ; 
 Turned to the jocund crowd and lent. 
 His old voice to the merriment ; 
 The laugh, the jest, and the reply, 
 And shouts go up and fill the sky. 
 
 Elsewhere within these strong grey walls, 
 
 In one of the more splendid halls. 
 
 The gay guests make the arches ring. 
 
 With music and with banqueting ; 
 
 Bold knights the sparkling wine cups quaffed. 
 
 And lovely ladies lightly laughed, 
 
 And jests were flung and glances bright, 
 
 From knight to dame, and dame to knight ; 
 
 But 'midst the scene of revel gay, 
 
 Sad is the baron's air to-day ; 
 
 Mayhap amidst the deep delight, 
 
 The joys and follies of that night, 
 
 4 
 
40 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Came memories of a night as fair, 
 That ended in such deep despair ; 
 And dreaming of those hours of bliss, 
 In his full heart he asks if this — 
 This second happy bridal day, 
 Must end in sorrows deep as they : 
 Or mayhap he is sad at heart, 
 Because so shortly he must part, 
 From Ada whom he loves above, 
 All else except his earlier love. 
 
 With cheerful face and bearing light. 
 Far otherwise the stranger knight, 
 Mingled with those whose spirits glean 
 A pleasure in the festive scene ; 
 He sits down freely at the board. 
 As gay and careless as the horde. 
 
 In time the massive doors unfold, 
 And brilliant with rich gems and gold, 
 Upon the scene of jovial din, 
 The beautiful young bride comes in ; 
 Emblem of purity of mind, 
 A white wreath round her brow was twined. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 41 
 
 From which as from a queenly crown, 
 The white lace veil drooped softly down 
 Her neck how fair, and like it too 
 Her lips and ckeeks more pale of hue, 
 Than in her days of childish glee 
 Her lips and cheeks were wont to be ; 
 Smiles wreathed her face, but some have told, 
 Her glances and her smiles were cold. 
 As though her eyes and lips were tauglit. 
 To smile because she thought she ought ; 
 Some passion, now forever o'er. 
 Perchance stole through her frame once more, 
 And chafed her in her present mood, 
 Saddened her soul and chilled her blood ; 
 And yet her air has grown so free, 
 That this we deem could hardly be ; 
 Smiles to th' admiring groups she throws, 
 Glances to these and words to those 
 So gaily, surely in her breast 
 Can lurk no passion unconfessed. 
 Th' exciting scene, the heated hall. 
 The laughter, merriment and all, 
 
42 ABA — A TALE. 
 
 To one so much unused as she, 
 To banqueting and revelry, 
 These deep excitements of the hour 
 Were causes of sufficient power. 
 That ev'n to banish every trace, 
 Of the rich roses from her face. 
 
 Thus like the spirit of a song, 
 Through the grey hall she moves along. 
 Her mien the gaze of all compels, 
 While a bright bevy of young belles. 
 Attend and follow in her way ; 
 But lovelier she tho' lovely they. 
 
 And now amid the crowd appears 
 A bishop, reverend for his years. 
 Followed by his attendant priests. 
 All jolly men who loved such feasts ; 
 With awful thought his frail frame shook, 
 And holiness was in his look. 
 For which he long had been renowned, 
 Beloved by all the country round ; 
 Through many a vigil had he passed, 
 Borne up through many an aching fast. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 43 
 
 Constant in prayers, in studies deep, 
 
 And losing little time in sleep. 
 
 The hours that others spend at ease. 
 
 Passing in wasting penances ; 
 
 There were few prelates who might vie. 
 
 In learning or in sanctity. 
 
 In long borne fast or penance grim, 
 
 Prayers or benevolence with him. 
 
 In time before the holy band. 
 
 The bright-eyed bridal party stand ; 
 
 The fair-faced bride no more beguiles. 
 
 The passing hour with jests and smiles ; 
 
 Yet, while her fair feet faintly stand. 
 
 Bears up, and gives away her hand. 
 
 Joy in his soul and in his eye. 
 
 The happy bridegroom standing by, 
 
 Bends forward and receives the gift. 
 
 While hands and eyes the friars' uplift ; 
 
 And the old bishop from on high. 
 
 Calls down the blessings of the sky ; 
 
 Dark his cold face, and fierce his eye. 
 
 Stood the old baron sternly by ; 
 
 4* 
 
44 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 His hauteur and his frowns conceal, 
 Whatever his strange heart may feel ; 
 But such his mien-^his proud glance such, 
 Men deemed that it could not be much 
 In his strong silent soul that stirred ; 
 Uut in that thought perchance they erred. 
 Tho' none were early in the night, 
 More reckless than the stranger knight. 
 With piquant jest and whispered word. 
 Or look that spoke although unheard ; 
 Yet is he grave and silent now, 
 And clouds have settled on his brow ; 
 True, no grim scowl came deep and dark, 
 And if with an unwholsome spark, 
 The fire in his grey eyes was red. 
 When the old monk his blessing said ; 
 Yet soon the darkened flash was gone. 
 It came and went, beheld by none ; 
 But there is sorrow mixed with care. 
 Purpose and stern resolve is there. 
 
 And now the newly married pair. 
 Noble were both, and one was fair, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 45 
 
 Turned where the silver goblets shine, 
 And pledged them in the sparkling wine ; 
 The bridegroom seized a massive cup, 
 Poured the bright tide and filled it up, 
 And bade a page whose feet were light, 
 To bear it to the stranger knight ; 
 " Tell him whate'er his troubles are. 
 No bolder ever rode to war, 
 And should heav'n please it so betide, 
 Much would it glad my soul to ride. 
 Again to battle by his side." 
 The stranger knight without a frown, 
 Took the full cup and quaffed it down ; 
 And Ada's eyes amidst the crowd, 
 Sought out the knight with glances proud, 
 And saw him sitting sternly there — 
 Why does the lovely lady fair. 
 Gazing upon the stranger knight. 
 Grow wan of cheek and dim of sight, 
 All suddenly struck motionless ; 
 We know not why, and dare not guess. 
 
46 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 A moment thus, then all was o'er, 
 The lady is herself once more ; 
 And it may be the sudden thought, 
 That seemed to cross her soul was naught ; 
 But that the recollection came, 
 More nearly o'er her fragile frame ; 
 And as needs were her heart was moved, 
 Leaving the father whom she loved, 
 Her native land, her childhood's home. 
 In other climes and shores to roam ; 
 Where tho' the gay sun brightly shone, 
 'Twould seem less lovely than her own ; 
 And tho' the evening breezes blew, 
 O'er groves of ever varying hue, 
 Oh never could they be so dear. 
 As the old rugged oak groves here ^ 
 Whose shaggy branches widely spread. 
 Had waved above her childish head. 
 
 Meanwhile the silence was restored, 
 And order reigned around the board ; 
 And then came forth, the reverend scald, 
 Wrinkled his face, his head was bald. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 47 
 
 i- 
 
 With thought and years his form was bent, 
 
 But poetry and passion lent, 
 
 To his strong lip and flashing eye, 
 
 The ecstacy of prophecy. 
 
 The silken troubadours who came, 
 
 With song and sonnet for the dame. 
 
 And well framed lutes of silver sound, 
 
 Smooth brows and ruddy cheeks, stood round ; 
 
 They came from places far away. 
 
 To celebrate the bridal day ; 
 
 But while the setting sun was fair 
 
 Chance brought the old bard's footsteps there, 
 
 Whom when the baron's eye had seen 
 
 Noted his presence and his mien. 
 
 He brought him to that banquet high, 
 
 And bade him sing of days gone by ; 
 
 He bade the swelling notes come fast, 
 
 And sang them stories of the past ; 
 
 Ran his high song on that fair land. 
 
 E'er it was sickled by the brand. 
 
 While yet o'er all its broad domains 
 
 The native line of monarchs reigns ; 
 
48 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Its smiling plains, its soft framed hills, 
 Its glassy streams and rippling rills. 
 Formed first the burthen of that song. 
 As its sweet music poured along. 
 Its girls how fair, its sons how bold. 
 How strong the young, how wise the old ! 
 The stranger knight with burning eye 
 As thus he sung sate proudly by, 
 And at quick intervals there came 
 A thrill of feeling through his frame ; 
 But shortly that proud mood was gone 
 As the old man of song went on. 
 He sang how gallant hosts came free, 
 From the fair shores of Normandy — 
 Brave men by dark-browed William led ; 
 He sang their wars, and those who bled. 
 His story told how each bold band 
 Was settled o'er the fertile land ; 
 And as he told the thrilling tale. 
 The stranger's handsome brow grew pale. 
 And there come flashes in his eyes. 
 As the old minstrel's wild notes rise ; 
 
ADA — A TALE. 49 
 
 He sang how by the Normans gay, 
 The former race was swept away ; 
 How stubborn in their fair-haired pride, 
 On their fierce battle fields they died ; 
 And fell before each breeze that wafts, 
 The Norman cloud of cloth-yard shafts ; 
 And how when peace had sheathed the brand. 
 Their tribes were scattered o'er the land ; 
 And all were dead who might have broke, 
 By force, or fraud, the Norman yoke. 
 Then sang the bard, Ms fatal hour. 
 Wild glories' jilted paramour ; 
 The flash of whose deep soul was bright. 
 Bred from his boyhood for the fight ; 
 Strong Harold at his country's call. 
 Went forth and perished at her fall ; 
 When first th' invaders' hordes came o'er, 
 He flew to meet them on the shore. 
 And when his crown and land were lost. 
 He fled not homeward with his host. 
 Fierce striving with a stern delight. 
 Full in the centre of the fight. 
 
50 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 The long shaft struck him to the brain, 
 Down fell the corpse upon the plain. 
 
 The fierce and glancing lightning flies, 
 Dejection fills the stranger's eyes. 
 Yet well his hearing he maintains, 
 And the old bard pursues his strains. 
 
 How in the darkness of the night, 
 By the rude torches' ruder light, 
 O'er that red scene — the Saxon's shame — 
 The blue-eyed wife of Harold came. 
 His mother followed in her train ; 
 But she led o'er the ghastly plain. 
 Amidst those heaps of breathless clay, 
 And shattered frames, they took their way ; 
 Her purpose fixed, her bearing high ; 
 And if no tear was in her eye. 
 It was because the lids retain 
 The hot drops burning on her brain. 
 A troop of spoilers of the dead, 
 A ruffian band, by ruffians led. 
 Came darkly o'er their bloody track, 
 But her high beauty awed them back ; 
 
ADA — A TALE. 61 
 
 A wild dog searching round for prey, 
 
 Was mumbling something hj the way, 
 
 Where stole a shudder through her frame, 
 
 But her high bearing was the same ; 
 
 She came where thick the dead was piled. 
 
 There the rough war had raged most wild ; 
 
 And midst that charnel most abhorred, 
 
 Ghastly in death, she found her lord ; 
 
 And such — and his full tones ran high, — 
 
 He sung is woman's constancy ; 
 
 Such her first love's unbroken faith, 
 
 That knows no changing e'en in death ; 
 
 In foreign scenes well pleased to range, 
 
 The love of man may lightly change ; 
 
 A fairer cheek, a brighter eye. 
 
 And he forgets the days gone by ; 
 
 But woman's love is still the same. 
 
 Through joy or woe, success or shame ; 
 
 Upon the stranger's shadowed eye. 
 
 There settled down an apathy. 
 
 And as the notes began to die, 
 
 In a cold tone, he made reply. 
 
 When winds were high and waves were dark. 
 
 And tempests tossed our shattered bark, 
 
 5 
 
52 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Said he, upon tlie deck, I've stood. 
 
 And gazed upon the reeling flood, 
 
 That stirred as by th' Eternal's breath, 
 
 Was yawning like a hell beneath ; 
 
 And I have stemmed the battle's tide. 
 
 When death was flashing near and wide, 
 
 And my companions by my side 
 
 Fell crushed and stark upon the plain. 
 
 To mingle with the mangled slain ; 
 
 But fickle chance and battle warm, 
 
 Wild ocean and the treacherous storm 
 
 That rages mightily above. 
 
 Are truer things than woman's love ; 
 
 111 fares the man, whose fortunes cling, 
 
 Concentering round so frail a thing. 
 
 His tones but few among them hear. 
 
 But they have reached the bridegroom's ear, 
 
 And on his sword his hand was laid, 
 
 'Till Ada's touch the motion staid. 
 
 And whispered as he bowed his head. 
 
 But no one heard the words she said. 
 
 End of Canto IL 
 
ADA— A TALE. 
 
 Canto III. 
 
 Beneath the tropics' burning eye, 
 More rich is earth, more blue the sky, 
 More warm the seas, more fair the strand, 
 Than in our chillier northern land ; 
 More balmy gales at eve are given, 
 And lovelier stars are in the heaven. 
 And through the moonlight midnights fair, 
 There come soft whispers on the air. 
 Like wings of seraphs in the skies, 
 Fresh with the breath of paradise. 
 There richer odors faintly flow, 
 And fairer flowers more brightly blow. 
 
54 ADA — ^A TALE. 
 
 And finer plants more swiftly spring, 
 And birds of gayer plumage sing, 
 And mellower fruits for food are found, 
 And richer ores are in the ground. 
 With vivifying influence warm, 
 Old nature wears a ranker form, 
 Through every deep recess more rife, 
 More teeming with eternal life ; 
 And lovely forms of gay delight. 
 Flit through those groves by day and night, 
 Fair birds of plumage rich and rare. 
 Insects of glorious hue are there, 
 Nothing in earth's wide round more gay, 
 More thoughtless, or more frail than they. 
 Yet, o'er these shores come storms sometimes, 
 Fiercer than storms in other climes, — 
 Wild hurricanes of fearful might. 
 These scenes of loveliness affright, 
 With howling wind, and blackened sky, 
 And thundered terrors they go by, — 
 And lightning flashing hot and red, 
 And fierce convulsions overhead, — 
 
ADA — A TALE. 55 
 
 Gardens despoiled, and trees uptorn, 
 And vast rank forests backward borne, 
 Like armies shrinking from the foe, — 
 These be the tracks they leave below. 
 And thus its force and fury spent. 
 Smiles deck again the firmament ; 
 After the tempest's inky hue, 
 The sky resumes a deeper blue. 
 And a great calm without a sound. 
 Settles upon the forest round ; 
 Such calm as comes when sinks to rest 
 Some fierce convulsion of the breast. 
 Whose thunder-bolts have ceased to roll, 
 And shiver through the aching soul. 
 
 And at hot noon, when skies are fair, 
 Through the bright flowery meadows there. 
 From their recesses dark and deep. 
 The azure colored serpents creep. 
 Where'er a shaded, cool retreat. 
 Invites the wanderer's weary feet 
 To pause awhile with sweet delay. 
 Through the hot noontime of the day, 
 5* 
 
56 ' ADA — A TALE. 
 
 The slimy reptiles coldly crouch, 
 Beside the most inviting couch 
 With cunning eye, and ill shall fare 
 He that lies down to slumber there. 
 Yet, spite the climate's fierce alarms, — 
 The deadly snakes, the racking storms. 
 The frequent earthquakes' -sullen shocks, 
 The bosom of the earth that rocks, — 
 So balmy is the fragrant air, 
 The spirit of the land so fair. 
 That when the storms or shocks were o'er, 
 You could not fail to love the shore ; 
 It woos with such a potent charm. 
 Its outspread bosom seems so warm. 
 
 Such as the clime, we know too well 
 Become the lovely girls who dwell, 
 • Budding beneath those sunny skies, 
 With their full breasts and starry eyes. 
 So rich the hues that light each cheek. 
 So soft their language when they speak. 
 So exquisitely shaped their forms, 
 So fierce their bosoms passion storms, — 
 
ADA — A TALE. 57 
 
 Their great full hearts so formed to thrill 
 With joy or woe, — "with good or ill ;" 
 When injured too, or trodden down, 
 So quickly mantling in their frown, 
 So fierce their hearts with fury boil, 
 So serpent-like the swift recoil. 
 And some there are, we know, sometimes, 
 As burning, tho' from colder climes, 
 As lovely every tender frame, — 
 Each lip and flashing eye the same, 
 And fashioned of as hot a clay. 
 As passionate and frail as they. 
 
 Where southern breezes warmly blow. 
 Stood Ada's bridegroom's proud chateau : 
 Upon a sloping hill it stood. 
 Beside a river's silver flood, 
 •Whose voiceless waters made no sound, 
 In the primeval forests round. 
 And turrets high, and towers of might, 
 And princely halls of dazzling light. 
 And balconies to catch the air, 
 And bulwarks for defence, were there. 
 
58 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And all throughout the shadj grounds, 
 
 Were pleasant sights and murmured sounds,- 
 
 Birds of gay-colored plumage sung, 
 
 And lovesick fountains softly sprung. 
 
 And flowers of many hues were there, 
 
 And odors sweet the breezes bear : 
 
 And voiceless in its loveliness. 
 
 Was many a cool and soft recess^ 
 
 Such as ^geria might employ, 
 
 So beautiful and framed for joy. 
 
 Days of fierce care had passed those towers. 
 
 And watchful nights, and battle hours. 
 
 But so remote the lovely scene. 
 
 Long days had passed since such had been,- 
 
 And on each battle-shivered stone. 
 
 The moss of many years had grown ; 
 
 Yet still the gates were fastly barred. 
 
 And on the walls were mounted guard. 
 
 And in the halls were many a band 
 
 Of vassals bearing bow and brand. 
 
 It was the season's loveliest night, 
 The fair strong towers were bathed in light ; 
 
ADA — A TALE. 59 
 
 From the full moon the radiance fell, 
 And that proud scene became it well : 
 And from the towers and massive walls, 
 Beyond the heavy shadow, falls, 
 Vague, like the memories of the past. 
 Dusky, and indistinct, and vast. 
 
 The castle's lord, with hound and spear. 
 That day had chased the light-stepped deer, 
 And wearied from the fruitless track, 
 At evening he rode slowly back ; 
 And now within his splendid towers, 
 He whiles away the drowsy hours. 
 
 Where thickest shadows darkest fall, 
 There is a postern in the wall. 
 From whose stout wicket comes to-night, 
 A single creset's feeble light ; 
 All trembling like a dying star, 
 The eye can catch it from afar ; 
 A moment quite distinct and plain, 
 The next you search for it in vain ; 
 But from the strong walls shadowed sides, 
 A muffled figure softly glides. 
 
60 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And down along the fair arcades, 
 
 Steps lightly, through the mellow shades ; 
 
 Upon her bare white arm she wore, 
 
 A flashing jewel, red as gore. 
 
 Which must have caught the morn's bright glow 
 
 At times, to make it sparkle so ; 
 
 O'er her rich face a veil was thrown, 
 
 But that white jeweled hand alone, 
 
 Sufficed to tell so plain a tale, 
 
 She might have flung aside the veil. 
 
 And let the breath of heaven embrace 
 
 Her flashing eyes and burning face. 
 
 And cool her brow, and ease in part, 
 
 The throbbings of her swelling heart ; 
 
 Which leapt up in so fierce a heat 
 
 That she could almost hear its beat. 
 
 At times she turns her earnest eyes 
 
 Toward where her proud home's turrets rise. 
 
 And listens well — but all is mute — 
 
 As dreading thence the fierce pursuit ; 
 
 At times she dreams she hears its hum. 
 
 But that swift vengeance does not come. *. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 61 
 
 The passion mood is o'er her frame, 
 
 And passion thoughts — but not the same, 
 
 Oh, not so soft, so pure, are they, 
 
 As when in youth her heart was gay. t 
 
 No more, the same — alas, no more, 
 
 Hot as her own adopted shore, 
 
 With all its storms that know no rest, 
 
 Come these quick love thoughts through her 
 
 breast. 
 And stir up to a wilder mood. 
 The fierce noon of her womanhood. 
 Far down that wavy long arcade 
 There is a bower by nature made, 
 'Midst clustering vines whose breath is sweet, 
 And soft flowers springing round the feet. 
 Whose fragrance never palls the sense, 
 There springs a murmuring brooklet thence. 
 And oftentimes had Ada set 
 Beside that sweet-voiced rivulet, 
 Poured softly o'er the storied page 
 Of love in some more happy age. 
 
62 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And often had she sought repose 
 
 While these with fans, with low lutes those 
 
 Her ladies waited hour by hour 
 
 Around her in her favorite bower. 
 
 And too of late hath she passed there, 
 
 At ev'n when the heavens were fair, 
 
 After the long heats of the day, 
 
 Hours far more fierce and dear than they. 
 
 Quick throbs her heart, her hot brow burns, 
 
 As thitherward her steps she turns. 
 
 She enters that luxurious bower, 
 
 He is not there tho' this the hour. 
 
 She sits upon her favorite seat — 
 
 Why burns her brow with such a heat ? 
 
 She listens ! wherefore comes the glow 
 
 O'er her slight frame that trembles so ; 
 
 Her bright eyes flash with fire more bright. 
 
 And up she springs with step so light, 
 
 She seemed the spirit of the place — 
 
 So beautiful, so full of grace ; 
 
 A moment trembling there she stands, 
 
 O'er her white breast are crossed her ha»ds, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 63 
 
 The next, and all her wild alarms 
 
 Are silenced in her lover's arms. 
 
 Long were the tale and hard to tell, 
 
 111 can I guess how this befel ; 
 
 Suffice that when her bridegroom bore 
 
 Young Ada to this smiling shore. 
 
 None were more beautiful — more gay — 
 
 More blest with happiness than they. 
 
 But the young warrior loved to roam, 
 
 And by and by he left his home ; 
 
 And from his fair domain again 
 
 Went forth to mix with other men : 
 
 Passed through the towns where kings abode 
 
 And to new battle-fields he rode. 
 
 And ventured now and then a chance 
 
 In tourneys with his trusty lance. 
 
 Thus often left, and long at home, 
 
 Ada's soft feet had learned to roam. 
 
 And she had roamed those forests through 
 
 And every secret path she knew ; 
 
 And each sequestered dear recess 
 
 B^utiful in its loneliness. 
 
 6 
 
64 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 But how and when again she met 
 Him, time had taught her to forget; 
 And how and when the love returned 
 That in her breast no longer burned, 
 We cannot guess, and do not know, 
 Save only this — that it was so. 
 
 Meantime fair Ada's lord reposed. 
 From the hot chase which day had closed ; 
 He lay in his accustomed place, 
 Security was on his face. 
 And as the warm thoughts come and go. 
 Awakened by the music low. 
 Which in his ear the minstrel plays 
 As was the wont of those old days ; 
 If Ada's absence caused him pain, 
 You sought for trace of it in vain. 
 And yet a wound may be concealed 
 Tho' festering darkly and unhealed, 
 And with his deep Italian mood 
 If jealousy had fired his blood. 
 The keenest eye had failed to trace 
 The ugly passion in his face. ^ 
 
ADA — A TALE. 65 
 
 For those there are whose lips can smile 
 The unthoughtful victim to beguile, 
 Tho' in the wilful heart is planned 
 The dark revenge that waits the hand, 
 The unsparing hand that owns alike 
 The mightiness and skill to strike ; 
 And yet if such a thought he bore 
 The vengeance had been ta'en before. 
 
 When first he rode back from the fight 
 A fairy thing of gay delight. 
 Flew Ada to receive her lord 
 To his own stately home restored ; 
 Like Houris of the eastern dreams 
 All love and loveliness she seems — 
 And the stern man was pleased to see 
 So beautiful a girl as she. 
 To make more dear his castled home 
 Now that his feet had ceased to roam. 
 Like some pet fawn he watched her ways, 
 Her happy looks, her sunny days ; 
 And loved to sit by her and trace 
 The smile of pleasure on her face. 
 
^Q ADA — A TALE. 
 
 And by and by she won the power 
 To soothe him in each darker hour — 
 Those darker hours which from time's birth, 
 Have plagued the thinkers of the earth. 
 And so it was that when a shade, 
 Came — and her smiles began to fade — 
 When a strange fire lit up her eyes. 
 And he could catch her broken sighs, 
 And she seemed withering like a flower. 
 He watched her, wishing for the power 
 To make her young face smile again — 
 His thoughts were not of evil then. 
 But by and by the flush returned. 
 And in her cheek more hotly burned ; 
 At first his heart again was glad. 
 But by and by he grew more sad — 
 Tor oft when seated by his side 
 He flung on her the glance of pride. 
 He noticed her abstracted air 
 And felt that little love was there. 
 Then suddenly, and like a flame 
 The deep and dark suspicion came, 
 
ADA — A TALE. 67 
 
 Then first he marked how oft at night 
 
 The lady Ada left his sight ; 
 
 He had not asked with what intent, 
 
 He had not questioned where she went, 
 
 But watched her through his trusty spies, 
 
 Like Argus with his hundred eyes ; 
 
 The spies were skilful, steady, true, 
 
 And yellow gold was offered too ; 
 
 And through the grounds their watch was set, 
 
 But nothing had they learned as yet ; 
 
 That night the minstrels softly play. 
 
 And wearied from the toilsome day, 
 
 A fit of restless slumber stole, 
 
 Cloud-like, across the noble's soul ; 
 
 In that short slumber, deep and grim. 
 
 Came awful shapes, and visions dim ; 
 
 And when he woke his dark eyes shine. 
 
 And pouring out a bowl of wine, 
 
 He bade a servant bring his bride, 
 
 The lady Ada to his side : 
 
 The moments flew, his deep eyes burned, 
 
 At length the slave he sent returned, 
 
 6* 
 
68 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 He searclied, lie said, the castle round, 
 
 But nowhere was the lady found ; 
 
 Up to her tower, her maidens thought, 
 
 Her steps were turned, and there they sought ; 
 
 And through her rooms with patient care, 
 
 Pursued the search, she was not there. 
 
 With brow that shows his bosom's stings, 
 
 Up from his couch the noble springs ; 
 
 They search the castle every where, 
 
 To find her, but she is not there ; 
 
 At length as the dun night wears late, 
 
 They spy the open postern gate ; 
 
 Thence issue all his trusty bands. 
 
 Lit on their path with blazing brands ; 
 
 With naked sword, he takes the lead, 
 
 And urges on their tardy speed ; 
 
 Throughout the forest to and fro. 
 
 Along the river's bank they go ; 
 
 And towards the midnight's darkening hour. 
 
 They found a veil in Ada's bower. 
 
 But though they scoured the country round. 
 
 The veil alone was. all they found ; 
 
ADA — A TALE. 69 
 
 In the late watches of the night, 
 There came a storm of fearful might, 
 And weary from the fruitless track. 
 Wet and affrighted they came back ; 
 Then wild the growing tempest howled, 
 And loud the deep toned thunder growled ; 
 From their strong roots vast trees were torn, 
 And down in the swift torrents borne, 
 Which dashed where once a thousand rills 
 Fell from the summits of the hills ; 
 Amidst the bowlings of the blast, 
 As over that chateau it passed, 
 With clouds that burst with sudden rent. 
 And shook the trembling firmament, 
 The turret which arose most fair, 
 Its proud head nodding in the air — 
 Where Ada was most often found. 
 Because from thence, the country round. 
 In its fresh beauty as it lies, 
 Was caught more freely by the eyes, 
 Trembled at each unearthly yell. 
 And while the storm was fiercest fell ; 
 
70 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 But by and hj the storm was o'er, 
 The search was then resumed once more, 
 But trace and tidings found they naught, 
 To tell of her for whom they sought ; 
 Her lovely form, her smiling face, 
 They miss them in their wonted place ; 
 Her dear familiar walks are lone. 
 Vacant and soulless every one. 
 No one could guess with whom she went, 
 Or whither her frail steps were bent, — 
 Save that a tale has current grown. 
 Its source and truth alike unknown, 
 How sitting on the very night. 
 On which she vanished from their sight, — 
 Lonely within his hovel's door. 
 Which overlooked the river's shore, 
 Whose waves the winds to fury lash, 
 'Till its black murky waters dash, 
 With a wild terror and a shock. 
 On each soft cove or jutting rock ; 
 A peasant saw those billows strong. 
 Bear something dark, that moved along ; 
 
ADA — A TALE. 71 
 
 A boat, perhaps, that swiftly glides, 
 Flung at the mercy of the tides, 
 And once, when with a vivid flame, 
 From the dark heav'ns the lightning came, 
 He saw, tho' dazzled much his sight, 
 A muffled lady and a knight. 
 There in that shivering vessel tost. 
 In the rude stream that seemed so lost. 
 That fierce flash in a moment o'er, 
 His eyes were dimmed, he saw no more ; 
 And ere the next broad sheet of light, 
 Boat, dame, and knight, were out of sight. 
 But whether in that fearful tide. 
 The stranger knight and lady died. 
 Or whether ere the night was o'er. 
 The bark was flung upon the shore. 
 And thus they gained the land below, 
 He could not guess, and did not know. 
 But an old peasant shook his head. 
 On list'ning to that tale, and said. 
 That when the tempest's force was spent, 
 As by the river's bank he went, 
 
72 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 He found far down the stream afloat, 
 Lone and upturned, an oarless boat ; 
 The smooth wave washed its shattered sides, 
 And bore it down the quiet tides. 
 These broken tales were all they knew, 
 And we have naught to prove them true, — 
 Whether in that dread night she died. 
 And sleeps beneath the silent tide ; 
 Whether to foreign shores she sped. 
 Forgot the home from which she fled, 
 And reckless of her broken bower. 
 Lived gaily with her paramour ; — 
 Or whether with a mighty force. 
 Came dark regrets and deep remorse. 
 And strange thoughts, with a fearful power, 
 O'er her in her most reckless hour, 
 To chase her wildest moods away, — 
 We have no means by which to say. 
 
 And he, from whom her feet had sped. 
 Wild was his grief when first she fled ; 
 Like his own country's tempest's roar, 
 As fearful, and as quickly o'er. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 
 
 T3 
 
 And to his castled home he took, 
 
 A lady of as bright a look, 
 
 Whose beauty had as fierce a power. 
 
 As that false girl's who fled his bower,— 
 
 And in his halls the scenes were gay. 
 
 And music soft by night and day, 
 
 And often sounds went up on high. 
 
 Of gaity and revelry, — 
 
 When the light foot tripped softly round 
 
 The brilliant halls without a sound, 
 
 And cavaliers lay down the lance. 
 
 And join the mazes of the dance. 
 His daughter's fault, without a word. 
 
 The stern old baron sternly heard : 
 
 And though those words his strong soul shook. 
 
 You could not read it in his look. 
 
 His were no mutterings of despair, — 
 
 Long years had taught him how to bear ; 
 
 But though his looks he might control. 
 
 The iron entered in his soul. * 
 
 O'er his strong heart and stalwart frame, 
 
 A sickness of the spirit came. 
 
74 ADA — A TALE. 
 
 Whicli would have slain him, had he bowed, 
 But he bore up erect and proud ; 
 And haughtier in his frigid ways, 
 Lived out the remnant of his days. 
 There has a tale grown current too, 
 It cannot be that it is true,— 
 After five years of feudal jars. 
 One day returning from the wars. 
 Beside his grey old castle gate. 
 He saw a muffled female wait ; 
 The proud old baron bowed his head, 
 And in his ear a word she said. 
 Which, when he heard, his haughty front 
 Became more dark than was his wont. 
 And bending o'er his saddle bow. 
 He said some words in accents low: 
 But what those words might be that fell 
 From his cold lips, they do not tell ; 
 But say, that with a sigh suppressed, 
 Locked sternly in her bursting breast, 
 And with a look of deep despair 
 On her pale face, that once was fair. 
 
ADA — A TALE. 75 
 
 She took the path toward the shore, 
 And none of them beheld her more. 
 But whether this or not were so, 
 There is at least one thing we know — 
 With unchanged look, and heart still strong, 
 The haughty baron lived along, — 
 Like his own towers, his head grew grey, 
 But his old soul was firm as they ; 
 Unshaken still, his matchless force. 
 As lightly still, he backed his horse ; 
 And firmly, as in days of eld. 
 In the strong rest his spear he held ; 
 But his expression was the same. 
 And laughter never shook his frame, 
 And tho' he mixed with other men. 
 The baron never smiled again. 
 
 End of Canto III. 
 
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