III.

What caused the mandate?--wherefore do I shrink? The stream runs on,--why tarry at the brink? Nay, let us halt, and in the pause between Sorrow and joy, behold the quiet scene;-- The chamber stately in that calm repose, Which Time's serene, sweet conqueror, ART bestows; There, in bright shapes which claim our homage still, Live the grand exiles from the Olympian Hill; Still the pale Queen Cithaeron forests know, Turns the proud eye, and lifts the deathful bow; Still on the vast brow of the father-god, Hangs the hush'd thunder of the awful nod; Still fair, as when on Ida's mountain seen, By Troy's young shepherd, Beauty's bashful Queen; Still Ind's divine Iacchus laughing weaves His crown of clustering grapes and glossy leaves; Still thou, Arch-type of Song, ordain'd to soothe The rest of Heroes, and with deathless youth Crown the Celestial Brotherhood--dost hold, Brimm'd with the drink of gods, the urn of gold!

All live again! The Art which images Man's noblest conquest, as it slowly frees Thought out of matter, labouring patient on, Till springs a god-world from reluctant stone, Charm'd Morvale more than all the pomp and glow With which the Painter limns a world we know.

'Twas noon, and broken by the gentle gloom Of coolest draperies, through the shadowy room, In moted shaft aslant, the curious ray Forced lingering in, through tiers of flowers, its way, Glanced on the lute (just hush'd, to leave behind Elysian dreams, the music of the mind), Play'd round the songstress, and with warmer flush Steep'd the young cheek, unconscious of its blush, And fell, as if in worship, at thy base, O sculptured Psyche[P] of the soul-lit face, Bending to earth resign'd the mournful eye, Since earth must prove the pathway to the sky; Doom'd here, below, Love's footprint to explore } Till Jove relents, the destined wandering o'er, } And in celestial halls, Soul meets with Love once more.[Q] }

And, side by side, the lovers sat,--their words Low mix'd with notes from Lucy's joyous birds, Sole witnesses and fit--those airy things, That, 'midst the bars, can still unfold the wings, And soothe the cell with language, learn'd above; As the caged bird--so on the earth is love! Their talk was of the future; from the height Of Hope, they saw the landscape bathed in light, And, where the golden dimness veil'd the gaze, Guess'd out the spot, and mark'd the sites of happy days; Till silence came, and the full sense and power Of the blest Present,--the rich-laden Hour That overshadow'd them, as some hush'd tree With mellow fruitage bending heavily,-- What time, beneath the tender gloom reclined, Dies on the lap of summer-noon the wind!

Roused from the lulling spell with startled blush At such strange power in silence, to the hush The maid restored the music, while she sought Fresh banks for that sweet river--loving thought.

"Tell me," she said, "if not too near the gloom Of some sad tale, the rash desire presume; What severs so the chords that should entwine With one warm bond our sister's heart and thine? Why does she love yet dread thee? what the grief That shrinks from utterance and disdains relief? Hast thou not been too stern?--nay, pardon! nay, Let thy words chide me,--not thy looks dismay!" "Not unto thee, beneath whose starry eye Each wild wave hushes, did my looks reply; They were the answer to mine own dark thought, Which back the grief, thy smile had banish'd, brought.

"Well--to the secrets of my soul thy love Hath such sweet right, I lift the veil above Home's shattered gods, and show what wounds belong To writhing honour and revengeless wrong.--

"Rear'd in the desert, round its rugged child, All we call life, group'd, menacing and wild; But to man's soul there is an inner life; _There_, one soft vision smiled away the strife! A fairy shape, that seem'd afar to stand On the lost shores of Youth--the Fairy land; A voice that call'd me 'brother;'--years had fled Since my rough breast had pillow'd that sweet head, Yet still my heart throbb'd with the pressure; still Tears, such as mothers know, my eyes would fill; Prayers, such as fathers pray, my soul would breathe; The oak were sere but for that jasmine-wreath! At length, wealth came; my footsteps left the wild,-- Again we met:--to woman grown the child: How did we meet?--that heart to me was dead! The bird, far heard amidst the waste was fled! With earthlier fires that breast had learn'd to burn; And what yet left? but ashes in the urn: Woo'd and abandon'd! all of love, hope, soul Lavish'd--now lifeless!--well, were this the whole! But the good name--the virgin's pure renown-- Woman's white robe, and Honour's starry crown, Lost, lost, for ever!"

O'er his visage past His trembling hand,--then, hurriedly and fast, As one who from the knife of torture swerves, Then spurns the pang, as pride the weakness nerves, Resumed--"As yet _that_ secret was withheld, All that I saw, was sorrow that repell'd,-- A dreary apathy, whose death-like chill Froze back my heart and left us sever'd still.

"One night I fled that hard indifferent eye; To crowds, the heart that Home rejects, will fly!-- Gay glides the dance, soft music fills the hall: I fled, to find, the loneliness through all! Thou know'st but half a brother's bond I claim,-- My mother's daughter bears her father's name; My mother's heart had long denied her son, And loath'd the tie that pride had taught to shun. My sister's lips, forbid the bond to own, Left the scorn'd life, a brother breathed, unknown.[R] Not even yet the alien blood confest; Who, in the swart hues of the Eastern guest And unfamiliar name, could kindred trace With the young Beauty of the Northern Race?-- Calm in the crowd I stood, when hark, a word Smote on my ear, and stunn'd the soul that heard! A sound, with withering laughter muttered o'er, Blistering the name--O God!--a sister bore; Nought clear, and nought defined, save scorn alone,-- Not heard the name scorn coupled with her own; Somewhat of nuptials fix'd, of broken ties, The foul cause hinted in the vile surmise, The gallant's fame for conquests, lightly won, For homes dishonour'd, and for hearts undone: Not one alone on whom my wrath could seize, From lip to lip the dizzying slander flees; No single ribald separate from the herd, Through the blent hum one stinging tumult stirr'd; One felt, unseen, infection circling there A bodiless venom in the common air, And as the air impalpable!--so seem The undistinguished terrors of a dream, Now clear, now dim, transform'd from shape to shape, The gibbering spectres scare us and escape.

"Fearful the commune, in that dismal night, Between the souls which could no more unite,-- The lawful anger and the shaming fears, Man's iron question, woman's burning tears; All that, once utter'd, rend for aye the ties Of the close bond God fashion'd in the skies. I learn'd at last,--for 'midst my wrath, deep trust In what I loved, left even passion just; And I believed the word, the lip, the eye, That to my horrid question flash'd reply;-- I learn'd at last that but the name was stain'd, Honour was wreck'd, but Purity remain'd. Oh pardon, pardon!--if a doubt that sears, A word that stains, profane such holy ears! So, oft amidst my loneliness, my heart Hath communed with itself, and groan'd apart,-- Recall'd that night, and in its fierce despair, Shaped some full vengeance from the desert air,-- That I forgot what angel, new from Heaven, Sweet spotless listener, to my side was given!

"But who the recreant lover?--this, in vain My question sought; that truth not hard to gain; And my brow darken'd as I breathed the threat Fierce in her shrinking ear, 'that wrath should reach him yet!' I left her speechless; when the morning came, } With the fierce pang, writhed the self-tortured frame, } The poison hid by Woe, drain'd by despairing Shame. }

"Few words, half-blurr'd by shame, the motive clear'd, For the false wooer, not herself, she feared; 'Accept,' she wrote 'O brother, sternly just, The life I yield,--but holy be my dust! Hear my last words, for, _them_ Death sanctify! Forbear his life for whom it soothes to die. And let my thought, the memory of old time, The soul that flees the stain, nor knew the crime, Strike down thine arm! and see me in the tomb, Stand, like a ghost, between Revenge and Doom!'

"I bent, in agony and awe, above The broken idol of my boyhood's love. Echo'd each groan and writhed with every throe, And cried, 'Live yet! O dove, but brood below, Hide with thy wings the vengeance and the guilt, And give my soul thy softness if thou wilt!' And, as I spoke, the heavy eye unclosed, The hand press'd mine, and in the clasp reposed, The wan lip smiled, the weak frame seem'd to win Strange power against the torture-fire within; The leach's skill the heart's strong impulse sped, She lived--she lived:--And my revenge was dead!

"She lived!--and, clasp'd within my arms, I vow'd To leave the secret in its thunder-shroud, To shun all question, to refuse all clue, And close each hope that honour deems its due; _But while she lived!_--the weak vow halted there, Her life the shield to that it tainted mine to spare!

"But to have walk'd into the thronging street, But to have sought the haunt where babblers meet, But to have pluck'd one idler by the sleeve, And asked, '_who_ woo'd yon fairhair'd bride, to leave?' And street, and haunt, and every idler's tongue, Had given the name with which the slander rung-- To me alone,--to _me_ of all the throng, The unnatural silence mask'd the face of wrong. But I had sworn! and, of myself in dread, From the loath'd scene, from mine own wrath, I fled.

"We left the land, in this a home we find. Home! by our hearth the cleaving curse is shrined! Distrust in her--and shame in me; and all The unspoken past cold present hours recal; And unconfiding hearts, and smiles but rife With the bland hollowness of formal life! In vain my sacrifice, she fears me still! Vain her reprieve;--grief barr'd from vent can kill. And then, and then (O joy through agony!) My oath absolves me, and my arm is free! The lofty soul may oft forgive, I own, The lighter wrong that smites itself alone; But vile the nature, that when wrong hath marr'd All the rich life it was our boast to guard But weeps the broken heart and blasted name;-- Here the mean pardon were the manhood's shame; And I were vilest of the vile, to live To see Calantha's grave--and to forgive: _Forgive!_"

There hung such hate upon that word, The weeping listener shudder'd as she heard, And sobb'd--

"Hush, hush! lest Man's eternal Foe } Hear thee, and tempt! Oh, never may'st thou know } Beside one deed of Guilt--how blest is guiltless Woe!" } Then, close, and closer, clinging to his side, Frank as the child, and tender as the bride, Words--looks--and tears themselves combine the balm, Lull the fierce pang, and steal the soul to calm! As holy herbs (that rocks with verdure wreathe, And fill with sweets the summer air they breathe,) In winter wither, only to reveal Diviner virtues--charged with powers to heal, So are the thoughts of Love!--if Heaven is fair, Blooms for the earth, and perfumes for the air;-- Is the Heaven dark?--doth sorrow sear the leaf? They fade from joy to anodynes for grief! From theme to theme she lures his thought afar, From the dark haunt in which its demons are; And with the gentle instinct which divines Interest more strong than aught which Self entwines With its own suffering--changed the course of tears, And led him, child-like, through her own young years. The silent sorrows of a patient mind-- Grief's loveliest poem, a soft soul resign'd, Charm'd and aroused---- "O tell me more!" he cried; "Ev'n from the infant let me trace the bride. Of thy dear life I am a miser grown, And grudge each smile that did not gild my own; Look back--thy _Father?_ Canst thou not recal _His_ kiss, _his_ voice? Fair orphan! tell me all."

"My Father? No!" sigh'd Lucy; "at that name Still o'er my mother's cheek the fever came; Thus, from the record of each earlier year, That household tie moved less of love than fear; Some wild mysterious awe, some undefined Instinct of woe was with the name entwined. Lived he?--I knew not; knew not till the last Sad hours, when Memory struggled to the Past, And she--my dying mother--to my breast Clasp'd these twain relics--let them speak the rest!" With that, for words no more she could command, She placed a scroll--a portrait--in his hand; And overcome by memories that could brook Not ev'n love's comfort,--veil'd her troubled look, And glided swiftly thence. Nor he detain'd: Spell bound, his gaze upon the portrait strain'd: That brow--those features! that bright lip, which smiled Forth from the likeness!--Found Lord Arden's child! The picture spoke as if from Mary's tomb, Death in the smile and mockery in the bloom. The scroll, unseal'd--address'd the obscurer name That Arden bore, ere lands and lordship came; And at the close, to which the Indian's eyes } Hurried, these words:-- } "In peace thy Mary dies; } Forgive her sternness in her sacrifice! } It had one merit--_that I loved!_ and till Each pulse is hush'd shall love, yet fly, thee still. Now take thy child! and when she clings with pride To the strong shelter of a father's side, Tell her, a mother bought the priceless right To bless unblushing her she gave to light; Bought it as those who would redeem a past Must buy--by penance, faithful to the last. Thorns in each path, a grave the only goal, Glides mine, atoning, to my father's soul!"

What at this swift revealment--dark and fast As fleets the cloud-wrack, o'er the Indian past? No more is Lucy free with her sweet dower } Of love and youth! Another has the power } To bar the solemn rite, to blast the marriage bower. } "Will this proud Saxon of the princely line Yield his heart's gem to alien hands like mine? What though the blot denies his rank its heir: } The more his pride will bid his love repair } By loftiest nuptials--O supreme despair! } Shall I divulge the secret! shall I rear, Myself, the barrier,--and the bliss so near?"

He scorn'd himself, and raised his drooping crest: "Mine be Man's honour--leave to God the rest!" As thus his high resolve, a sudden cry } Startled his heart. He turn'd: Calantha by! } Why on the portrait glares her haggard eye? }

"Whose likeness this? Thou know'st not, brother? speak! What mean that clouded brow--that changing cheek? Thou know'st not!" "Yes!" And as the answer came, With Death's strong terror shook the sister's frame, A bitterer pang, an icier shudder, ran Through _his_ fierce nature-- "Dost _thou_ know the man? Ha! his own tale! O dull and blinded! how, Flash upon flash, descends the lightning now! _Thou_, his forsaken--_his_! And I--who--nay! Look up Calantha; for, befal what may, He shall----" The promise, or the threat, was said To ears already deafen'd as the dead! His arm but breaks the fall: the panting breast Yet heaves convulsive through the stifling vest. The robe, relax'd, bids doubt--if doubt yet be-- Merge the last gleam in starless certainty! Lo there, the fatal gift of love and woe Miming without the image graved below-- The same each likeness by each sufferer worn, Or differing but as noonday from the morn. In Lucy's portrait, manhood's earliest youth Shone from the clear eye with a light like truth. There, play'd that fearless smile with which we meet The sward that hides the swamp before our feet; The bright on-looking to the Future, ere Our sins reflect their own dark shadows there:-- Calantha's portrait spoke of one in whom, Young yet in years; the heart had lost its bloom; The lip of joy the lip of pride had grown; It smiled--the smile we love to trust had flown. In the collected eye and lofty mien The graver power experience brings was seen; Beautiful both; and if the manlier face Had lost youth's candid and luxuriant grace, A charm as fatal as the first it wore, Pleased less--and yet enchain'd and haunted more.

And this the man to whom his heart had moved! Whose hand he had clasp'd, whose child he loved!--he loved! This, out of all the universe--O Fate! This, the dark orb, round which revolved his hate; This, the swart star malign, whose baleful ray Ruled in his House of Life; and day by day, And hour by hour, upon the tortured past One withering, ruthless, demon influence cast! There writhes the victim--there, unmasking, now The invoked Alecto frowns from Arden's brow. O'er that fierce nature, roused so late from sleep, Course the black thoughts, and lash to storm the deep. Love flies dismay'd--the sweet delusions, drawn By Hope, fade ghost-like in the lurid dawn; As when along the parch'd Arabian gloom Life prostrate falls before the dread Simoom, No human mercy the strong whirlwind faced, And its wrath reign'd sole monarch of the waste!