She was no Countess like to you,Nor wore such sparkling stones of flame."Oh the wild look of fear and dread!
The cry she gave of bitter woe!
I often wonder what I said To make her moan and shudder so.
Through the long night she tended me With such sweet care and charity.
But should weary you to tell All that I know and love so well:
Yet one night more stands out alone With a sad sweetness all its own.
The wind blew loud that dreary night:
Its wailing voice I well remember:
The stars shone out so large and bright Upon the frosty fir-boughs white,That dreary night of cold December.
I saw old Walter silent stand,Watching the soft white flakes of snow With looks I could not understand,Of strange perplexity and woe.
At last he turned and took my hand,And said the Countess just had sent To bid us come;for she would fain See me once more,before she went Away--never to come again.
We came in silence through the wood (Our footfall was the only sound)To where the great white castle stood,With darkness shadowing it around.
Breathless,we trod with cautious care Up the great echoing marble stair;Trembling,by Walter's hand I held,Scared by the splendours I beheld:
Now thinking,"Should the Earl appear!"
Now looking up with giddy fear To the dim vaulted roof,that spread Its gloomy arches overhead.
Long corridors we softly past,(My heart was beating loud and fast)And reached the Lady's room at last:
A strange faint odour seemed to weigh Upon the dim and darkened air;One shaded lamp,with softened ray,Scarce showed the gloomy splendour there.
The dull red brands were burning low,And yet a fitful gleam of light,Would now and then,with sudden glow,Start forth,then sink again in night.
I gazed around,yet half in fear,Till Walter told me to draw near:
And in the strange and flickering light,Towards the Lady's bed I crept;All folded round with snowy white,She lay;(one would have said she slept;)So still the look of that white face,It seemed as it were carved in stone,I paused before I dared to place Within her cold white hand my own.
But,with a smile of sweet surprise,She turned to me her dreamy eyes;And slowly,as if life were pain,She drew me in her arms to lie:
She strove to speak,and strove in vain;
Each breath was like a long-drawn sigh.
The throbs that seemed to shake her breast,The trembling clasp,so loose and weak,At last grew calmer,and at rest;And then she strove once more to speak:
"My God,I thank thee,that my pain Of day by day and year by year,Has not been suffered all in vain,And I may die while he is near.
I will not fear but that Thy grace Has swept away my sin and woe,And sent this little angel face,In my last hour to tell me so."(And here her voice grew faint and low,)
"My child,where'er thy life may go,To know that thou art brave and true,Will pierce the highest heavens through,And even there my soul shall be More joyful for this thought of thee."She folded her white hands,and stayed;
All cold and silently she lay:
I knelt beside the bed,and prayed The prayer she used to make me say.
I said it many times,and then She did not move,but seemed to be In a deep sleep,nor stirred again.
No sound woke in the silent room,Or broke the dim and solemn gloom,Save when the brands that burnt so low,With noisy fitful gleam of light,Would spread around a sudden glow,Then sink in silence and in night.
How long I stood I do not know:
At last poor Walter came,and said (So sadly)that we now must go,And whispered,she we loved was dead.
He bade me kiss her face once more,Then led me sobbing to the door.
I scarcely knew what dying meant,Yet a strange grief,before unknown,Weighed on my spirit as we went And left her lying all alone.
We went to the far North once more,To seek the well-remembered home,Where my poor kinsman dwelt before,Whence now he was too old to roam;And there six happy years we past,Happy and peaceful till the last;When poor old Walter died,and he Blessed me and said I now might be A sailor on the deep blue sea.
And so I go;and yet in spite Of all the joys I long to know,Though I look onward with delight,With something of regret I go;And young or old,on land or sea,One guiding memory I shall take -Of what She prayed that I might be,And what I will be for her sake!
