The Ladye blush'd, the Ladye sighed, All Heaven was in that Hour! The Heart he pledged was leal and brave-- And what the pledge the Ladye gave?-- Her hand let fall a flower! And when shall Aymer claim his Bride? It is the hour to part! He goes to guard the Saviour's grave;-- Her pledge, a flower, the Maiden gave, And _his_--the Minstrel's heart! Behold, a Cross, a Grave, a Foe! _What else--Man's Holy Land?_ High deeds, that level Rank to Fame, Have bought young Aymer's right to claim The high-born Maiden's hand. High deeds should ask no meed below-- Their meed is in the sky. The poison-dart, in Victory's hour, Has pierced the Heart where lies the flower, And hers its latest sigh! It is the time when Spring on Earth Gives Eden to the young, And harp and hymn proclaim the Bride, Who smiles, Count Raimond, by thy side,-- The Maid whom Aymer sung! And, darkly through the wassail mirth, A pale procession see!-- Turn, Marguerite, from the bridegroom turn-- Thine Aymer's heart--the funeral urn-- _His_ pledge, comes back to thee! Lo, on the Urn how wither'd lies Thy gift--the scentless flower! Amid those garlands, fresh and fair, That prank the hall and glad the air, What does that wither'd flower? One tear bedew'd the Ladye's eyes, No tears beseem the day. The dead can ne'er to life return "A marble tomb shall grace the Urn," She said, and turn'd away. The marble rose the Urn above, The World went on the same; The Ladye smiled. Count Raimond's bride, And flowers, like hers, that bloom'd and died, Each May returning came. The faded flower, the dream of love, The poison and the dart, The tearful trust, the smiling wrong, The tomb,--behold, O Child of Song, The History of thy Heart! Narrative Lyrics. OR, THE PARCAE; IN SIX LEAVES FROM THE SIBYL'S BOOK. The Parcae.--Leaf the First. NAPOLEON AT ISOLA BELLA. In the Isola Bella, upon the Lago Maggiore, where the richest vegetation of the tropics grows in the vicinity of the Alps, there is a lofty laurel-tree (the bay), tall as the tallest oak, on which, a few days before the battle of Marengo, Napoleon carved the word "BATTAGLIA." The bark has fallen away from the inscription, most of the letters are gone, and the few left are nearly effaced. I. O fairy island of a fairy sea, Wherein Calypso might have spell'd the Greek, Or Flora piled her fragrant treasury, Cull'd from each shore her Zephyr's wings could seek.-- From rocks, where aloes blow. Tier upon tier, Hesperian fruits arise; The hanging bowers of this soft Babylon; An India mellows in the Lombard skies, And changelings, stolen from the Lybian sun, Smile to yon Alps of snow. II.