Till he rose a lifeless corse. Now there is stillness in the vale, And long, unspeaking sorrow: Wharf shall be to pitying hearts A name more sad than Yarrow. If for a lover the lady wept, A solace she might borrow From death, and from the passion of death;-- Old Wharf might heal her sorrow. She weeps not for the wedding-day Which was to be to-morrow: Her hope was a farther-looking hope, And hers is a mothers sorrow. He was a tree that stood alone, And proudly did its branches wave; And the root of this delightful tree Was in her husband's grave! Long, long in darkness did she sit, And her first words were, "Let there be In Bolton, on the field of Wharf, A stately priory!" The stately priory was reared; And Wharf, as he moved along, To matins joined a mournful voice, Nor failed at even-song. And the lady prayed in heaviness That looked not for relief! But slowly did her succour come, And a patience to her grief. Oh! there is never sorrow of heart That shall lack a timely end, If but to God we turn, and ask Of Him to be our Friend! ----W. Wordsworth. ALBERT GRÆME'S SONG |It was an English ladye bright, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) And she would marry a Scottish knight, For Love will still be lord of all. Blithely they saw the rising sun, When he shone fair on Carlisle wall; But they were sad ere day was done, Though Love was still the lord of all. Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall; Her brother gave but a flask of wine, For ire that Love was lord of all. For she had lands, both meadow and lea, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And he swore her death, ere he would see A Scottish knight the lord of all! That wine she had not tasted well, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell, For Love was still the lord of all! He pierced her brother to the heart, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall:-- So perish all would true love part, That Love may still be lord of all! And then he took the cross divine, (Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) And died for her sake in Palestine, So Love was still the lord of all. Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) Pray for their souls who died for love, For Love shall still be lord of all! ----W. Scott. [Illustration: 080] HAROLD'S SONG |O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. --"Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay, Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. "The blackening wave is edged with white: To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,