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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 skw))\m I ■^ m) of tJ)e §ihtM %mt. BY MAPLE LEAF. PKIMED J.V JOHN LOVELL. ST. KICIIOLAS SIKEET, 1874 127Z^ vT y ti >•*-. '.I -f-i "ti n < \ ^ wm^mm,^ A Lay of the Olden Time. »»«'• » « -o^»»- CoNSTANCE and Rosaline, twin sisters were, Daughters of Earl de Macey, a proud peer, Claiming descent from a high Norman lord, Who came with the Duke William o'er the sea, That monarch who, to his reluctant sway, Reduced fair England by the Hastings' fight; When but mere babes the maidens' mother died, Scarce 'ere her budding flowers had op'd to bloom, Scarce 'ere the little feet could run alone. Without the guidance of her gentle hand And 'ere the infant lips could frame that word, Mother, the sweetest of all names 'mong men. Thus left in earliest childhood motherless, Seem'd they to cling with more than common love Each to the other, tho' 'twas strange, I ween. That natures so diverse should be entwin'd By closest of all ties, twin-sisterhood. coy STANCE. Rosaline was one of fairy form and face ; Back from her forehead stream'd her waving hair Clustering in golden ringlets o'er her neck, Whilst her soft eyes, like two celestial stars, Blue as the vault of Heaven, seemed often filled With the glad sunshine of a glorious youth. And she was like some blushing moss-rose fair. But Constance was a flower more rarely seen. Tall and commanding was her slender form, Lofty her mien, and on her countenance The majesty of virtue ever sate. And from her marble brow, pure as the snow, Rippl'd the tresses of rich, auburn hair; Whilst often in the flashing of her eye One traced the fire of a high, dauntless soul ; Yet when in contemplation she was wrapt. Pier spirit seem'd to dwell in those dark depths. Their hue a liquid brown — pure, deep, and clear, Ev'n like the waters of that far-famed lake From whence the maiden had derived her name — And tho' she seldom smiled, a smile it seemed To all more sweet because so rarely seen. The Castle stood within a vale beneath. And on the north side rose a mountain high, Whence the adventurous climber could behold, VOXSTAyCL\ .sms 7 *^'" Far down below, a waving forest grand ; And in the distance lay the glist'ning sea, Shining beneath the starlit firmament. And there the Cnstle stood, a stately pile, As tho' the frowning battlements could touch The sky above ; and the grey, massive walls Possessed a certain weird and barren air, As tho' the spirit of a by- gone age Dwelt in the old and hoary edifice. Aye ! there it lay, wrapt in night's sombre shade ; All dark and grim, save where a steady light Burned from the highest turret ; marking thus The nightly bower of the fair sister-twins. For on the morrow Constance would ride forth. Ride by her father's side with train select. Unto the Court of England. For 'twas said A host was then preparing to depart To join Crusaders in the Holy Land. And ne'er was brave De Macey known to lag When wise and prudent counsel was besought, Still less when gallant leaders were required To head a fiery band of warriors. First His presence at the court was in request. And thus his absence for a score of days. And the two sisters (who in all their lives « CONSTANCE. Scarce for one day had separated been) Bade each the other a long, sad farewell, For thus the time, tho' brief, love magnified. Only upon that morn he bade them choose, Which should remain behind and which proceed : For he had said his daughters were too fair To hide their charms in their wild Castle home. And Rosaline had pleaded, " I will stay, ** Constance must go, she is so like a queen, " That all the court will marvel when they see ** Her wondrous loveliness and gracious ways." Then suddenly rememb'ring they must part, Swiftly she glided to her father's side, And whisper'd, " Why, my father, cannot both " Go with thee on this journey to the court ?" Then leaned her golden head upon his breast. And patiently awaited his reply. Then spake De Macey, smoothing her bright hair, " Nay, daughter, these are warlike times, I trow, '* There's often danger when we dream it not ; ** Therefore 'tis better one should here remain, " Yet grieve I much to part my two White Doves." For such the name he, in his loving pride. Had given to Constance and his Rosaline. CONSTA^VE. 9 'B Then spake the stately beauty, who till now Silence had kept, " Yea, father, thou art right, " And as thou say est, these are warlike times, " Too warlike for our gentle Rosaline, " She will be safer here. Dearest, adieu, " And doubt not that we two shall meet again." Then asked her sire, " Plast thou no fear, my Constance ?" ** Fear !" and as she spake the ill-omened word, Flashed her dark eyes ; she raised her stately head, To its full height she drew her slender form, And looked around her with a queenly air Of dauntless courage, and then questioned thus, " What should I fear ? Fear seldom visits me. *' Perchance 'tis fear that makes our Rosaline " Tremble to see thee clothed in burnished steel, " Tremble to see thee mount thy barbed steed ? " Sometimes methinks that I have judged her wrong, " And that she shares with me a proud delight. '* Tell me, my father, what have I to fear ?" The maiden ceased, " Now bravo T cried the Earl, " Like a De Macey hast thou said, my child j " One scarce would deem that in thy woman's soul, " The courage of our Norman fathers dwelt. " Yet art thou braver far than many a knight I [ I ( I ! CONSTANCE. " Who in the tournament has laurels won ; " So mayst thou ever be, my noble girl, *' Be brave and pure, thy father asks no more. *' And thou, my Rosaline, my darling child ! " Thou art my gentle, timid, little bird, " Yet both are dear, so dear, I cannot tell " Which hath the noblest soul, the fairest face. *' And now adieu, my daughters. Constance, thou " Upon the morrow wilt depart with me." Thus spake the Earl ; well pleased 'twas thus agreed. Then left the maidens' bower ; and as the clank Of his spurred heel fell on the pavement stone, Rosaline shudder'd, and forboding ill. Clung to her sister, but fair Constance smiled ; Then turning, cheered her with low, tender words, As one would sooth a gentle child's alarm. -€^^^n COXSTAKCE. 11 II. Calm thyself then; tho' now with aching heart You bid farewell ! Ever to meet again, in grief or joy ? Ah, who can tell ! Weep not, sad heart, so wildly ! tho' on earth These partings are so sore ; Know ! that in Heaven, where no sorrow comes, W^ part no more ! Now dawneQ he smiling morn. The sun arose. And draped in sunlight the grey castle walls, And the soft sky above, a wide expanse Like one vast thought of the all-mighty God So spiritual J pure, unfathomable, No clouds, as frowns, furrowed its countenance ; And in the golden light the feathery trees Waved their green boughs, and kissed the summer wind. Which flitted, softly sighing, o'er the ground. Meanwhile the lark, that sunny bird of joy, Greet'd with gladsome song the op'nlng day. Within the castle courtyard, all was life. And men-at-arms oft hurried to and fro. Whilst neighing steeds, impatient, pawed the ground. CONSTANCE. To one alone, give we a passing glance ; A milk-white mare, of rare Arabian breed, Meet bearer of the lovely Lady Constance. And scarce could Evrette, the dark-eyed page, Restrain the movements of the fiery steed, Yet, at the word of Constance, who came forth. And with the Earl, prepared to mount, then stood Snow (such its name) meek as the gentle lamb. When the fair maid caressed her snowy mane. But now, '^ To horse ! To horse !" De Macey cried, Then on his coal-black charger lightly sprung. And with a blast of trumpets loud, his train Swept from the courtyard of the castle, and Quickly, in martial order, passed away. Slowly the portcullis the warders dropped. But on the battlements stood Rosaline Her kerchief waving, and with tearful eye. At the fast disappearing train, then gave One long, last look, then to her bower retired. Now slowly dragged along the wings of time. Day followed day, in dreary nothingness. Her 'broid'ry work lay all nijheeded by. For old pursuits now cr.; ed not Rosaline. In such employ their wonted pleasure was. ri. m COySTA^TE. Yet when unshared by Constance, it had fled. Full twice twelve days had passed, and Rosaline Within her bower, on the couch reclined. It was the hour of noon, the sultry air Lay as a heavy cloud on all around. Her m:.ldens spake together 'neatli their breath. Thinking that their fair mistress slumbered. When suddenly upon their startled ears, And thrice repeated, rang a bugle blast ; A moment's solemn pause, and then the sound Of trampling horse's hoofs, the silence brake. Then swiftly Rosaline roee from her couch. And crying, " 'Tis my sire!" was hastening forth, But paused, as Effingham, the castle steward. Just entering, " Besought his Lady's grace, '* For thus intruding on her solitude." " How now! Good Effingham, doth not that blast " Foretell the Earl's approach ? What say est thou ?" *' Not so, my Lady, 'tis a goodly train. Commanded by the young Knight De Lestrange, Who prays admittance at the castle gate, " And craves an audience of thee, for he brings " Dispatches from my Lord, I but await " Thine own commands. Shall 1 him entrance grant, C( cc 1 y i i :i CO^' STANCE. " And shall his retinue remain without ?" Dispatches from my father, doth he bring ? " Without delay admit him, Effingham. " Touching his train ; canst thou not quarter them ? " Our castle gives full, ample space for all." With low obeisance, Effingham retired. Then to her maidens turned fair Rosaline, " Now haste ! attire me as my rank demands." Then, at her words, the tire-women obeyed. One, her bright ringlets bound with azure band, Another, clothed her in a sheeny robe, Fasten'd with skill the jeweled girdle bright, Claspt massy bracelets on her arms of snow. Then forth she stood, in fitting dress attired, Robed, best of all, in youthful loveliness. Her maidens following her, she led the way, Unto the audience chamber, to receive The messenger, and letters of her sire. With a light grace, she thro' the entry stept, Pass'd up the grand old hall, and paused a space. All waiting her approach, was De Lestrange, Attended solely by a squire who bore The buckler, and the sword, of the young knight. Then, with chivalrous courtesy, Lestrange Swiftly advanced, saluting Rosaline ; dl & T COX^TAXCE. And winnitigly she bowed her beauteous head. When, — as her eye fell on the squire — slie frown'd, And on the maiden's brow displeasure sate, And thus to Effingham, the steward, she spake, " Why didst thou not my strict commands obey ? " Said I not that thou shouldst the suite admit, '' Of this young knight ; and wherefore this neglect ?" " Nay, lovely Lady ! he deserves not blame, ** For faithfully thy mandate he fulfilled. " By my commands proceeds my train. Methinks " Our presence might be irksome; thou wouldst love " Our absence better than our company ; '* And when these letters have been render'd safe " Into thine own fair hands, then I depart." Then answered Rosaline, all graciously, " Methinks, Sir Knight, 'cis an ill compliment. " Is Rosaline so churlish that thou fear'st " Poor cheer she'd render to her father's friends ? " Send then a message to recall thy train ; '* At least this even must thou here abide." " Thou churlish, beauteous Lady !" cried Lestrange ; " 'Tis thou who, speaking thus, dost wrong thyself. " With lance and sword, oh fairest Rosaline ! " Would I defy the world for such reproach. " Add to thy bounteousness forgiveness sweet, -ii-'i' .■'! ^ 'I -I CONSTANCE. '• And take it for an unintended fault !" " Thou hast it," said the maiden, " but meanwhile " We trust, this eve, thou wilt our banquet grace. " But what news of my father dost thou bring ? *' Aught of the Lady Constance, hast thou seen ?" Then placed Lestrange within her dainty hands A packet tied with silk, graved on the seal, A lion rampant, the DeMacey arms. In vain the knot to loose, strove Rosaline. " And by thy favor ?" saith the gallant knight. Upon one knee, knelt he, with courtly grace, E'en with his dagger, cut the silk in twain, " A thousand thanks, fair Sir," she said, and smil'd, A sunny smile, that he could ne'er forget. And as the scroll she read, he musing watched. Thinking there was no other face so fair. Then after a brief space spake Rosaline, " Now hie thee, Effingham, to those without, " And say that ere shall set another sun *' The Earl, with Lady Constance, will return. " And thcu. Knight of Lestrange," the maiden said, ** My father prays thou wilt remain, for he " Would wish to hold with thee a conference." Then bent his head, and answered De Lestrange, " Honored am I, indeed, to be i/iy guest — " n COXSTA^'CE. Ere he proceeded, there a shout arose, A long, loud shout, which echoed wide and far. " Nay, fear not. Lady !" quoth the trusty steward. " They have received the gladsome tidings, and '* They joy to know the Earl will soon return." That night the castle rang with festive song, And mirth and feast flourished without reserve. And with her maidens, in the banquet hall. Sate Rosaline, her guest the stranger knight. Of noble form and face, was De Lestrange ; Thickly the brown curls cluster 'd o'er his brow ; Keen as a falcon's was his chestnut eye. And tho' scarce twenty summers he had seen. His mien commanding, his athletic form Was moulded in a matchless symmetry. Courted as friend, dreaded alike as foe. Skilled in all manly exercises. And graced withal with knightly courtesy. Thus of the knight ; then questioned Rosaline, " How fares the court ? aught of that peerless maid, ^* Constance De Macey, hast thou seen, fair Sir ? " Methought that all, that Lady's praise would sing." " Nay, such good fortune had I not," he said, " Her beauty is the theme of every tongue ; " She, the chief subject of the minstrel's lay. CONHTAXCE. " All render homage to the queenly maid, " And, if report speaks true, soon will she wed " One of the noblest of England's sons. " 'Twas ever said the daughters of the Earl *^ Were fairest among women ; yet, I trow, " Rumor hath scarce done justice to their charms, " If Constance can compare with Rosaline." The blushing maiden smiled and lightly said, " Sir Knight, we thank thee much for thy fair speech ; " Yet well thy words prove thou hast not beheld ** The Lady Constance. Those who have beheld^ ** Would deem her sister worthy scarce a glance." ** Nay, Lady, nay," the youthful knight replied, *'^ Treason to beauty to believe such words." And in such converse passed the eve away. ! i CO.XSTA^TJ^. 19 III. *0h let my troubled heart have rest, I want no more ; I want the calm and quiet breast I had before. • Oh let my troubled heart have peace ; Be far away Desires of every kind — and cease On me to prey. Oh let my troubled heart be still ; Come Holy Dove, Come all my altered soul to fill With God's pure love. Oh soul restored acrain, ne'er roam The sinful road ; Thrice blessed is he who goes not from The ways of God. Three hours had scarcely fled,, since De Lestrange The deer pursued, amid the forest glades. Deftly he drew his bow, an arrow sped. Fulfilled its mission, for a graceful stag, With quick' ning bound, fell lifeless to the earth. Then, bidding his attendants bear the game, *Tbese linea were kindly contributed by a friend, ^j? 20 CONSTANCE. Back to the castle quickly rode Lestrange. For in the distance, saw the youthful knight, The castle courtyard, crowd'd with men in arms. And heard the shouts that told the Earl's return. Then spurred he on his horse, then reached the gate. And leaping down, threw to his squire the reins. Then wending thro' the crowd, gained he the hall. But at the entrance paused one minute's space, On Constance's far-famed charms intent to gaze. Around the Earl was grouped a lordly throng, And some were there of England's proudest sons. Ofttimes admiringly their glances fell On Rosaline, who claspt her sister's hand, On whose bright face sat rapturous delight. For to De Macey's right, there Constance stood. Clad in a robe of velvet, silver grey. Her long, bright hair in silken ringlets flow'd, A diamond star shone on her lofty brow, 'Neath which her eyes gleam'd with a purer light. Then as Lestrange gazed on her, thus he thought, " Aye ! she is fairer far than they have said 1 Formed is she, that face shows, for noble things. Not for a life in trifles occupied. What courage in her flashing eye, there dwells, Courage, perchance, for highest deeds required. i COXSTANCE. A noble soul, methinks, doth there abide, A soul far nobler than the face is fair !" Then, in a lower tone, softly he spake, " Too grandly beautiful is she for me ! *Tis Rosaline whom I would seek to wed." Then entered he the hall. Thus cried the Earl, " Ho ! De Lestrange ! come hither, gallant knight, ** Of my most old and valued friend, the son, " Meetly we welcome thee, how dost thou fare ? " Thou hast before seen Lady Rosaline, " But, Constance, know thou now this valiant youth." Then lowly bowed Lestrange and greeted her ; And statelily she bent her head, whilst o'er Her face there dawned her rare and winning smile. Then Earl De Macey, taking up his speech, Thus broken by the coming of Lestrange, Resumed," And so my lords ye have resolved " To add your numbers this great host unto, *^ Which in a month proceeds to Palestine." *' Such our intention is," the nobles said ; And the young De Lestrange made like reply. " Such is mine also," then the proud Earl saith. " Rollo De Macey fiever lags behind. " But ample time doth there remain, I trow, ** For preparations, ere we join the host, CONiiTA^CE. '^& " Therefore 'tis meet that ye our guests should be." Aiul with these words up brake the conference. ' rwas but a short space since the Karl's return. One morn, there sallied from the Castle gate, 'I'o hunt the wild boar in the forest depths^ A gallant band, his guests, and daughters fair, i'or thus had prayed, the daughters of the Karl, " Yea, let us go, for in some place where naught Of danger is, there will wc watch and wait," Knowing not that the secret hope of each Was that the victor De Lestrange should be. And their fond sire had granted their request. Now at the destined goal had all arrived, A cool retreat with ancient oak trees girt. Then to the ladies bade adieu in haste The hunters, eager then to join the chase. Attendants leaving them, to shield from harm. Rode 'mongst the trees, and soon were lost to view. Apart the sisters sate, in converse low, Naught brake the silence, save the distant shout, The baying of a hound, or winded horn. At length, in slight alarm, spake Rosaline, " They tarry long, what danger hath befall' n ? " " Nay, dearest, fear not," calmly Constance saith, See'st thou that path, that to the woodland strays ? coxsTAxr/:. " Perchance if vvc proceed a little way ** We then our truant huutcrs may behold." Guiding with skilful hand her milk-white stccJ, Led she the way, followeil by Rosaline ; But at the forest entrance halted they, On all arouiul a wand'ring gaze then threw, When suddenly a piercing cry there brake From Rosaline, who sate transfixed with fear. Rudely was trampled down the brushwood nigh ; And with a roar like thunder, forth there sprung, A fierce wild boar, and rushed at Rosaline. The lily cheek of Constance paler grew. Swiftly she drew her rein ; with sudden bound, Athwart the pathway sprang ; and Rosaline Beheld her only shield, the slender form Of Constance, and again with mighty cry. The boar rushed on ; when from the brushwood ran Guy De Lestrange, and before Constance stood One moment's space, then brightly gleamed his spear. And the wild monster of the forest fell To the green earth, and gasping lay in death. Then to the side of Constance sped Lestrange, To learn if injury she had received. And in low, thrilling tones the knight she thanked ; And Rosaline in joyful tears, with sobs »i T.^ ■.■•"^w(,'i"f^rytTV>F"'T'ii*^""' .'W!''.^''f»'P''^^' *»■"/',"'■ "t^^'""' '1 " u' I I CONSTANCE. Pray'd him her share of gratitude accept. Then answered De Lestrangc in accents low, *' Know'st thou not, loveliest, I am well repaid " In saving one whom thou dost hold so dear ?" Save that her cheek was paler than its wont Slight token, Constance gave, the speech she heard Small need doth there remain to dwell, I trow, Upon De Macey's joy and thankfulness. Nor of the envy of his noble guests In that a deed, with such good fortune fraught, Fell to the lot of the more favored knight. All sunshine was the life of De Lestrange, When smiled upon by fairy Rosaline. Upon the mount which near the castle lay, In purple grandeur rising to the sky. Often would stray the daughters of the Earl, For near the summit was a rustic bower, Fashioned of verdant moss and trailing vine. And seated there, fair Constance oft would say, The soft wind sighing mid the forest trees Like spirit voices ever seem'd to her, And the low moaning of the distant sea Was as the sad wail of a dying soul. One eve in this loved spot the sisters sate. And there had passed their time since sultry noon ; COySTAXCE. And Rosaline had softly said, " Mcthinks •* The sun is well nigh set, let us depart. ** Bid Evrette attend, thy harp to bear. " T'is better thus, dear sister, let us haste." But as they rose, a shadow fell athwart The entrance, and then entered De Lestrange. " Forgiveness, fairest ladies," oft he pled, ** I knew not that this spot was graced by you. " Methought sweet strains of music I had heard ; '^ That I was not deceived yon harp doth prove. " Oh, that one little favor I might pray ! " Fair Rosaline to hear thy voice I yearn. " Sweet Lady Constance, ask I now too much ?" " Great must the one be which we would not grant " To the preserver of our lives," she said. Thus Constance spake and Rosaline with smiles, Passing her fairy fingers o'er the strings, Broke forth into a sweet and joyous strain, A clear and bird-like trill. Sweet as the sound Of water rippling over mossy stones; Or as the tinkling of a silver bell ; A joyous voice, singing of sunny youth. And many were the thanks the young knight gave When ceasing. Constance lightly toi:ched the strings But with diviner melody she sang. Stilled by the magic power of her voice. Sometimes they all in perfect silence stood ; Then homeward thro' the twilight went their way. CONSTANCE. omMS VSJ.I? IV. Some (lowers droop beneath the burning sun And pine away ; They cannot bear the heat and weariness, The burden of the day. ^ But others, tho' the storm may bruise and bend Them to the ground, The storm being o'er they raise their stately heads And smile around. Are there not some bright souls Who mourning lie. Too frail the' sorrows of this earth to bear. So droop and die ? Yet stronger, loftier spirits, are there not. Who sorrow long, Yet 'mid affliction conquer by suffering And being strong ? Soon would the host depart to Palestine. Yet ere De Macey's guests the castle left. The noble Earl pray'd that they would remain To witness the betrothal of his child, The lovely Rosaline, to De Lestrange. ^■'0 I* -. .,0^^^^ CONSTANCE. ({ it But passionately cried, " I too will go And share thy danger also, sister mine." Nay," firmly, e'en tho' gently, Constance saith. Still pleaded Rosaline, " Must I remain " These perils leaving thee alone to brave ? " Is not thy life, love, dearer far than mine ? " And wherefore this ?" Then with a sadden'd smile Spake Constance, " Ah ! my dearest, is there not " One who would far more miss and mourn, methinks, " Thyself e'en than a thousand Constances ! " Therefore entreat no more, my Rosaline," Then she went forth in sweet self-sacrifice ; Watched o'er the sick, thought only of their wants, And of the safety of her sister fair. In utter self-forgetfulness she went. And many lying on their couch of pain E'en held their breath her light footfall to hear. And 'mid the darkest hour, when fever raged, Fancied the cooling touch of her small hand Was a pure dew drop, fall'n from the skies ; And thought the soothing sound of her sweet voice. The murmur of the wavelets of the lake. And often the last gaze of dying eyes Rested on her ; half deeming that they saw An angel in that slender, shadowy form, CONSTANCE. 35 And yearning look of love unutterable. And strained their failing ears the last, last words Of holy triumph and steadfast faith to hear. For the grim messenger came day by day. Those taking who to this life still would cling. Nor spared the young, but with his iron grip The fairest flowers oft pluck'd in passing by. Yet amongst those who feared death were some Who meekly yielded up to God their souls ; Yea, such who with a Christian's lofty faith, Long'd only their dear Master Christ to meet. 'Length had the fever well nigh past away, One eve there spread the evil news abroad. Bringing deep gloom unto the hearts of all : Spite of all care, alas ! 'twas even so. The Lady Rosaline had not escaped. And likewise Reginald, of Evrey, who Scarce three days past, in health and life had been, Now a cold corpse within the castle lay ; But few were from that sickness sore restored. And in their bower, o'er her sister's couch Hung Constance, and the words she ofttimes heard. Which all unconsciously spake Rosaline. In vain to stay her wild delirium Strove Constance ; and she knew in those dark hours, CONSTANCE. How oft her gentle sister longed to see Her De Lestrange ; how often she had dwelt Upon that name belov'd with mournfulness. And ever wailed, " Come back to me, ah, come ! ** I would not lose one brief day's intercourse " With thee, tho' years of life might thus be gain'd ; " For when apart from thee all life is naught. " And wherefore list not to my pleading voice ? " Oh, Guy ! unto thy Rosaline return. " Oh ! tarry not, for death may take me hence, " Then, Oh ! beloved, we shall meet no more." 'Length after many days of pain and weariness, ^ When hope had fled, and Constance knelt beside Her couch, in utter dreariness and woe ; Those wn.tching saw the white lids softly droop, And then to Rosaline sleep gently came. And Constance, in great thankfulness to God, In prayer, breathed all her praise and gratitude. Then health once more to Rosaline return' d. Unto her cheek the pale, pink roses came. And in her azure eyes there shone again The sunny light and life of glorious youth. One even, when upon a couch she lay. Well-nigh restored, there to the castle came A palmer from the far off Holy Land, CONSTANCE. And Constance bade them bring the vvandVing man, For with him would they hold some conference, " If aught of Earl De Macey he had heard, " And likewise of the young knight De Lestrange." " Yea," answercth the palmer, " sooth to tell, " That brave De Macey, wounded nigh to death, " Lieth within the camp ; and 'tis e'en said " Those 'neath the burning sun of Palestine " Can ne'er survive, when wounded as the Earl ; " Although in some, perchance, more genial clime, " Might health regain. Touching that gallant Knight, ** Guy of Lestrange, of him, know I but this, " That, at his mighty deeds upon the field " All marvel, for in truth 'tis seldom seen " Such deeds, and wrought by one scarce grown a man, " But ye are pale, fair ladies, and, methinks, " Savor too rfiuch the things whereof I speak " Of war." Then thus the Lady Constance said, " We thank thee, palmer, now this gold accept ; *' Thou mayst withdraw, for we alone would be.'' So he departed. The twin -sisters fair Long silently and with blanch'd faces sate. Then Constance spake, her voice so strangely clear. Now on the ear in quavering accents fell : " And so our father lieth wounded now coysrANCF. " Nigh unto death, and yet might live, perehanee, ** Could he unto his castle home return. " Ah, who, alas ! would home our father bring ? ** I^'or Reginald ofEvrey now is dead, " And of our faithful followers the few " Who went not with him unto Palestine, '* Have likewise 'neath that fever fall'n, save " Good Ertlngham, who here must still remain, '* And Evrette, the page. Too younr: is he " Alone, to pass across the ocean wide,. *' Neither, alas ! could honest Markham go; '* Therefore, my dearest, hearken unto me. " Upon the morrow's dawn there setteth sail "A vessel, bound for the far Holy Land ; *' With E'vrette, to-night, must I depart, '■' And honest Markham, full of strength and truth ; '* Thou must not stay me, Rosaline, with these " I needs must go hence to that distant land." m i f CONST A NCR. VI. The din of battle and the clash of arms Have passed away, Naught doth remain save those that bravely fought And fell that day. Some in the pride of beauty and of youth Are lying there, Smiling as tho* in life's last closing hour They conquerors were. And some in manhood's prime and strength, alas ! All lifeless lie ; Who bravely fought upon that battle Held, And scorn'd to fly. " De Macey to the rescue !" Wide and far Rang thus the war cry ; and the noble Earl, Scarce healed him of his wounds, rushed forth again, Into the thickest fight, oft rallying His valiant followers, aid render'd they Unto their lord, and straightway charged the foe. Till louder and more fierce the combat grew. And as a sickle down the wheat doth mow So men by death upon the plain were strewn *i^' ( 1 CONSTjU^CE. And fiery war-steeds and their riders bold. Together on the field of strife were laid. But e'en the bravest of the brave, I trow, Was one, a youthful knight of high degree. Who in his helmet an azure kerchief wore. And on the gallant warrior now down- poured The foe, in numbers vast, innumerable. Thrice bore him to the earth, yet thrice he rose, And fell the fourth time senseless 'mongst the slain. Likewise it chanced with Earl De Macey brave, P'or vainly 'gainst his enemies he strove ; And whilst they fought their master's side to gain, Al! trodden down his faithful followers were. Ah ! fatal to the Christians was that day. By the fierce Saracens so hard beset. They with weak numbers sufllsr'd sore defeat. 'Length night came on, and the clear stars shone forth. As jewels in an azure mantle set. And the pale moonbeams fell all quaveringly Upon the pallid features of the slain ; And far around a vast deep stillness lay. All undisturbed e'en by a falling leaf. When now athwart the awful plain of death. Onward two figures glided silently. A maid serenely fair, a dark-eyed page. t ^"h //^ CONSTANCE. 41 M Sole living, seemingly, amongst the dead. And suddenly the maiden, stooping low. Her arms around a fall'n warrior threw. And Constance knelt beside her dying sire. Oh ! that her loving soul e'en yet could call That spirit, fast departing, back again. Iler prayer was granted, nor did her sweet words fall Unheard, unheeded by the dying Earl, And o'er his countenance there stray'd a smile, And after mutterings low, came utterance. " Can it be Constance whom again I hear ? " How camst thou hither ? Yes, 'tis my fair child ! *' What of thy sister ? is it well with her ? " * Yea,' sayest thou ? alas ! almost, mcthinks, " It better were had it been otherwise. " For know lies dead our noble Guy Lestrangc, ** And 'ere unto his rescue I could flee, " O'er powered by many, fall'n had our knight. " Nay ! start not, shrink not, with white countenance " Thy part is now to comfort I^osaline." And Constance, in sublime self-sacrifice. Unheeding now her heart's mute agony, Answereth, ** Yea, that part, alas, is mine !" Then in a voice now chang'd, thus spake the Earl, Not dreaming she the youthful knight had lov'd, CONSTA^VE. '^ Ay, he Is gone ; his message bear thee back, " My last fond love, unto our Rosaline. " Thou art my own true Constance thus to brave '^ All dangers to thy dying sire to come. " And now, draw nigh, thy sweet lips press to mine, " For the shadowy vale of death I'm entering, " And yet once more would hold thee ere T go " Unto my heart, my best beloved child. " 'Tis hard to leave thee thus, and yet e'en now " We must not 'gainst our Father's will rebel. ^^ Kiss me once more, sweet Constance ;" and again : " Surely the sky hath clouded, for methinks " I cannot see ; it groweth dark around." Then on her bosom leaned he as to rest His head, and in his hand her hand he held, And whispered low, " Constance, my comforter^ ^' Until again we meet, sweet child, farewell." Then with a long-drawn, restful sigh, he passed Far from a life of strife to one of peace. And she wept not, e'ei^tho' the sobbing page Knelt with low wailings at his master's feet ; But softly murmured, " Father, in that land " 1 soon shall meet thee, when — " but here she stay'd Her speech, and swiftly then the color came Unto her face, before as driven snow. 4».. COXSTANCE. P'or lightly swayed there in summer wind An azure kerchief from an helmet bright, And Constance then at one slight glance bethought It was the favor of her Rosaline. None but one knight could that blue token wear ; And went she then unto his side in haste, And saw the pallid face of Guy Lestrange, Of deathly hue, but life there lingered still. Then with the page's aid drew she the knight From 'mongst the heaps of slain which ccmpass'd him, And shuddered when all bleeding there he lay. And with her flowing hair the red tide stayed. And bound her girdle o'er the gaping wound. Love giveth strength e'en to the feeblest. And with the page's aid then Constance bore The mailed form far from that slaughterous scene. At length the Christian's camp in safety gained. And in his own pavillion laid him down. When those few followers, who from the fight With life had 'scaped, deeming their master dead. All joyously again their lord beheld, E'en tho' with wounds nigh unto death he lay, And looked with awe and reverence on the maid Who thus her life had perilled his to save ; Deeming it passing strange that he should choose CONSTANCE. For his betrothed, not her, but RosaHne. And Constance ever watched and tended him, And oft the weary, restless hours of pain Fled swiftly when beside his couch she sate, And sang in her strange spiritual voice, Or talked of K ...idi..' , theme best he loved. Then slowly back to life came be again. And oft-times gazing on her face so pure With gratitude and re'vncnce, e'en would say : *' Constance, so ho.y n' 1. » ^'ki." art thou, " More angel than a cnild of e^ 'th thou seemst." At length to health w^'^ s.>, Lc /^e restor'd. With all that of his retinue rctr dh, .. Then set he sail unto his native land, And passed all dangers to the castle came And was with glad rejoicings welcomed oft. He heard, that with her maidens, Rosaline, Upon the mount had strayed ; their bower unto Then forthwith De Lestrange and Constance went. Together, trod the upward pathway till The vine-clad bower reached, then slowly paused, For on the threshold stood there Rosaline, And at the setting sun so sadly gazed. Then sighing turn'd she, and the twain beheld. And with a gladden'd, joyous cry she sprang COj^STANCE. Unto Lestrange ; thus met the lovers true. 'Length after Rosaline, with tender words, Her knight had greeted, unto Constance went, But started when she saw her sister thus. For in the golden sunlight Constance stood, Not radiant as a spirit glorified, But pale, and gazing on the distant sea. Gazing with far-off look, 'twas e'en as tho' Something unseen to her was visible, And o'er her face there dawned a moonlight smile, And softly to herself she murmured low, " My work is done, and now I fain would rest." t^ CO^^STANCE. vir. And the glad earth mourn'd that her fairest flower Was hidden away from sight, And the birds no more sang their songs of joy — K'en the flowerets seem'd less bright. And nature wore her mourning robe, Full many a tear she shed. And the wind wailed low 'mid the forest trees. And sigh'd for the gentle dead. So were they wed, yet not with pomp and state. For ev'n in all their joy the sorrow came ; In that no more was now the noble Earl. And other cares encountered Rosaline, For to her watchful eyes oft Constance seemed Each day more shadowy and spirit-like, And day by day she faded as a flower. And Rosaline then feared, with sorrow wild, (Perchance the burning sun of Palestine Well-nigh hnd snapt the silver cord of life) That soon from Constance she must separate. A nd Constance lay e'en like a tired child Knowing that she on earth should rise no more CONSTANCE. Until within the Paradise of God She'd walk, where there is naught of weariness ; And oftentimes when sleeping softly smiled. As tho' to her there wondrous visions came. One even of her sister she besought That they would bear her to that vine-clad bower, Once more the sunset on the mount to sec. Then hasted Rosaline and De Lestrange Her wishes to fulfil ; then was she borne Upon a couch, far up the rugged path, Until the bowret reached, then paused awhile, And long gazed she around, then softly said : " Come hither Rosaline, Guy also thou, " For the last time do I that sunset see, " And ere I go, fain would I speak with thee. " Oh ! that thou mayst each to the other long " Be granted : such has ever been my prayer. " Yet pray I not as in those other days, " That naught but happiness may fall to thee, " For sorrow purifieth, and methinks We may grow holy 'neath God's chastening rod ; And often 'mongst the thorns are fairest flowers, " And if we suffer here that other world " The brighter seemeth to our longing souls. '' So mayst thou be, that then when death shall come (I (C > I 1 '' i!s. .^Mf CONSTANCE. ** Such it is not to thee, but rather life." Then ceased a little while, then spake again, " Mcthought last night, in a fair dream, perchance, " An angel form came softly unto me, " And bending held my hand, low murmuring, '' * Constance, thy work is o'er, come to thy home.' " And in that face, while gazing, I beheld " Our mother, as in life, divinely fair, " Then with a flood of light, she onward passed, " And I in silence lay, oft wondering. " Yet spirit voices ever seem to say, '* ' Come hither, sister, we but wait for thee !' " And in the watches of the night, I hear " The footsteps of the Master drawing nigh. " And I go hence, sweet sister, not in fear, " For on my soul no shadow there hath fall'n, •' But full of calm, deep peace, do I depart. " The road hath been so rough and wearisome, " But now at last my spirit rest hath found. " Ye must not mourn and weep for me as one " Having no hope, for I am satisfied." And a still, saintly smile came o'er her face. Robing her marble features as a veil Of shadowy light, whilst o'er her brow there strayed The auburn tresses, and 'neath the red light COXSTANCE. C'f sunset, shone like waves of burning gold. And o'er her eyes, so spiritually clear, The lids droop'd, as the water lily folds Its snowy petals o'er its golden breast. Tranquil she lay, nor spake. All breathlessly They watched, but deeming that their Constance slept. 'Length when the shades of night had gathered o'er. Unto her sister there, came Rosaline, Saying, with tender words, " Shall we depart." She answered not, and when again they spake. Stirred not, for in that silent hour had fled Her spirit pure, unto its longed for home. ^fid with a wailing cry^ fell Rosaline All swooning there her sister's couch beside. Then raised her, e'en with sorrow deep as hers, Guy De Lestrange, and then in quav'ring tones Bade those attending home to follow him. And silently they bore the sacred dead, And in her virgin bower laid her down. 'Length Rosaline to consciousness restored Then wildly sobbed, until Lestrange advanced And pleaded thus : " Come Rosaline, with me ; " For when thou gazest on that angel face, " Methinks thou couldst not call her back again." Then she arose and to that bower went. CONSTAyC£. But wept more bitterly, till to his heart Fondly he held her, and then softly said : *' Look up, sweet one, our Constance is not dead, " But in a fairer clime our flower lives, " And in a few brief years we meet again ; " Therefore, my Rosaline, be comforted." And she obeyed, lifting her weeping eyes To where, like a pure lily gently culled. The form of Constance in sweet sleep reclined. But at that sight she stay'd her gasping sobs, Clinging to Guy her wild tears ceased to flow. JPor as she gazed upon that marble brow. Full of still, deep repose, it seemed as tho' The spirit passing by had smiled and left Upon that brow unutterable peace. The fight was over now, the toil, the strife Were gone, and like a conqueror there she lay, Her countenance with angel brightness clad. And o'er her lips a shadowy smile there play'd, Unearthly in its sweetness, thus she slept. Ah ! now, no more her mourning spirit sighed. All earthly sorrows from her fled for aye, And her sad soul at last was satisfiedy For she had passed to a diviner land, To where the wicked cease from troubling. And the poor weary hearted ever rest. THE END. I •^ I — ^9) m M ^M0-