5. But the true blood spilt had in it a heat To dissolve the precious seal on a bond, That, if left uncancell'd, had been so sweet: And none of us thought of a something beyond, A desire that awoke in the heart of the child, As it were a duty done to the tomb, To be friends for her sake, to be reconciled; And I was cursing them and my doom, And letting a dangerous thought run wild While often abroad in the fragrant gloom Of foreign churches--I see her there, Bright English lily, breathing a prayer To be friends, to be reconciled! 6. But then what a flint is he! Abroad, at Florence, at Rome, I find whenever she touch'd on me This brother had laugh'd her down, And at last, when each came home, He had darken'd into a frown, Chid her, and forbid her to speak To me, her friend of the years before; And this was what had reddened her cheek When I bow'd to her on the moor. 7. Yet Maud, altho' not blind To the faults of his heart and mind, I see she cannot but love him, And says he is rough but kind, And wishes me to approve him, And tells me, when she lay Sick once, with a fear of worse, That he left his wine and horses and play, Sat with her, read to her, night and day, And tended her like a nurse. 8. Kind? but the deathbed desire Spurn'd by this heir of the liar-- Rough but kind? yet I know He has plotted against me in this, That he plots against me still. Kind to Maud? that were not amiss. Well, rough but kind; why, let it be so: For shall not Maud have her will? 9. For, Maud, so tender and true. As long as my life endures I feel I shall owe you a debt, That I never can hope to pay; And if ever I should forget That I owe this debt to you And for your sweet sake to yours; O then, what then shall I say?-- If ever I _should_ forget. May God make me more wretched Than ever I have been yet! 10. So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate, I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight, That I should grow light-headed, I fear. Fantastically merry; But that her brother comes, like a blight On my fresh hope, to the Hall to-night. XX. 1. Strange, that I felt so gay, Strange, that I tried to-day To beguile her melancholy; The Sultan, as we name him,-- She did not wish to blame him-- But he vext her and perplext her With his worldly talk and folly: Was it gentle to reprove her For stealing out of view From a little lazy lover Who but claims her as his due? Or for chilling his caresses By the coldness of her manners, Nay, the plainness of her dresses? Now I know her but in two, Nor can pronounce upon it If one should ask me whether The habit, hat, and feather. Or the frock and gipsy bonnet Be the neater and completer; For nothing can be sweeter Than maiden Maud in either. 2. But to morrow, if we live, Our ponderous squire will give A grand political dinner To half the squirelings near; And Maud will wear her jewels, And the bird of prey will hover, And the titmouse hope to win her With his chirrup at her ear.