The Two Margarets.

II.—Margaret in the Xebec.

[“Concerning this man (Robert Delacour), little further is known than that he served in the king’s
army, and was wounded in the battle of Marston Moor, being then about twenty-seven years of age.
After the battle of Nazeby, finding himself a marked man, he quitted the country, taking with him the
child whom he had adopted, and he made many voyages between the different ports of the Mediter-
ranean and Levant.”]
Resting within his tent at turn of day1
A wailing voice his scanty sleep beset :2
He started up—it did not flee away3
’Twas no part of his dream, but still did fret4
And pine into his heart, “ Ah me ! ah me ! ”5
Broken with heaving sobs right mournfully.6
Then he arose, and troubled at this thing,7
All wearily toward the voice he went8
Over the down-trod bracken and the ling,9
Until it brought him to a soldier’s tent,10
Where, with the tears upon her face, he found11
A little maiden weeping on the ground ;12
And backward in the tent an aged crone13
Upbraided her full harshly more and more,14
But sunk her chiding to an undertone15
When she beheld him standing at the door,16
And calm’d her voice, and dropp’d her lifted hand,17
And answer’d him with accent soft and bland.18
No, the young child was none of hers, she said,19
But she had found her where the ash lay white20
About a smouldering tent ;  her infant head21
All shelterless, she through the dewy night22
Had slumber’d on the field,—ungentle fate23
For a lone child so soft and delicate.24
And I,” quoth she, “ have tended her with care,25
And thought to be rewarded of her kin,26
For by her rich attire and features fair27
I know her birth is gentle :  yet within28
The tent unclaim’d she doth but pine and weep,29
A burden I would fain no longer keep.”30
Still while she spoke the little creature wept,31
Till painful pity touch’d him for the flow32
Of all those tears, and to his heart there crept33
A yearning as of fatherhood, and lo !34
Reaching his arms to her, “ My sweet,” quoth he,35
Dear little madam, wilt thou come with me ?”36
Then she left off her crying, and a look37
Of wistful wonder stole into her eyes.38
The sullen frown her dimpled face forsook,39
She let him take her, and forgot her sighs,40
Contented in his alien arms to rest,41
And lay her baby head upon his breast.42
Ah, sure a stranger trust was never sought43
By any soldier on a battle-plain.44
He brought her to his tent, and soothed his voice,45
Rough with command ;  and ask’d, but all in vain,46
Her story, while her prattling tongue rang sweet,47
She playing as one at home about his feet.48
Of race, of country, or of parentage,49
Her lisping accents nothing could unfold ;—50
No questioning could win to read the page51
Of her short life ;— she left her tale untold,52
And home and kin thus early to forget,53
She only knew,—her name was—Margaret.54
A woman and a man gaze at a white dove as it flies towards the ground. The man holds a book in his lap. 3/4 page.
Then in the dusk upon his arm it chanced55
That night that suddenly she fell asleep ;56
And he look’d down on her like one entranced,57
And listen’d to her breathing still and deep,58
As if a little child, when daylight closed,59
With half-shut lids had ne’er before reposed.60
Softly he laid her down from off his arm,61
With earnest care and new-born tenderness :62
Her infancy, a wonder-working charm,63
Laid hold upon his love ;  he stay’d to bless64
The small sweet head, then went he forth that night65
And sought a nurse to tend this new delight.66
And day by day his heart she wrought upon,67
And won her way into its inmost fold68
A heart which, but for lack of that whereon69
To fix itself, would never have been cold ;70
And opening wide, now let her come to dwell71
Within its strong unguarded citadel.72
She, like a dream, unlock’d the hidden springs73
Of his past thoughts, and set their current free74
To talk with him of half-forgotten things75
The pureness and the peace of infancy,76
Thou also, thou,” to sigh, “ wert undefiled77
(O God, the change !) once, as this little child.”78
The baby-mistress of a soldier’s heart,79
She had but friendlessness to stand her friend,80
And her own orphanhood to plead her part,81
When he, a wayfarer, did pause, and bend,82
And bear with him the starry blossom sweet83
Out of its jeopardy from trampling feet.84
A gleam of light upon a rainy day,85
A new-tied knot that must be sever’d soon,86
At sunrise once before his tent at play,87
And hurried from the battle-field at noon,88
While face to face in hostile ranks they stood,89
Who should have dwelt in peace and brotherhood.90
But ere the fight, when higher rose the sun,91
And yet were distant far the rebel bands,92
She heard at intervals a booming gun,93
And she was pleased, and laughing clapp’d her
hands ;
Till he came in with troubled look and tone,95
Who chose her desolate to be his own.96
And he said, “ Little madam, now farewell,97
For there will be a battle fought ere night.98
God be thy shield, for He alone can tell99
Which way may fall the fortune of the fight.100
To fitter hands the care of thee pertain,101
My dear, if we two never meet again.”102
Then he gave money shortly to her nurse,103
And charged her straitly to depart in haste,104
And leave the plain, whereon the deadly curse105
Of war should light with ruin, death, and waste,106
And all the ills that must its presence blight,107
E’en if proud victory should bless the right.108
But if the rebel cause should prosper, then109
It were not good among the hills to wend ;110
But journey through to Boston in the fen,111
And wait for peace, if peace our God shall send ;112
And if my life is spared, I will essay,”113
Quoth he, “ to join you there as best I may.”114
So then he kiss’d the child, and went his way ;115
But many troubles roll’d above his head ;116
The sun arose on many an evil day,117
And cruel deeds were done, and tears were shed ;118
And hope was lost, and loyal hearts were fain119
In dust to hide,—ere they two met again.120
So pass’d the little child from thought, from view121
(The snowdrop blossoms, and then is not there,122
Forgotten till men welcome it anew),123
He found her in his heavy days of care,124
And with her dimples was again beguiled,125
As on her nurse’s knee she sat and smiled.126
And he became a voyager by sea,127
And took the child to share his wandering state ;128
Since from his native land compell’d to flee,129
And hopeless to avert her monarch’s fate ;130
For all was lost that might have made him pause,131
And, past a soldier’s help, the royal cause.132
And thus roll’d on long days, long months and years,133
And Margaret within the Xebec sail’d ;134
The lulling wind made music in her ears,135
And nothing to her life’s completeness fail’d,136
Her pastime ’twas to see the dolphins spring,137
And wonderful live rainbows glimmering.138
The gay sea-plants familiar were to her,139
As daisies to the children of the land ;140
Red wavy dulse the sunburnt mariner141
Raised from its bed to glisten in her hand ;142
The vessel and the sea were her life’s stage143
Her house, her garden, and her hermitage.144
Also she had a cabin of her own,145
For beauty like an elfin palace bright,146
With Venice glass adorn’d and crystal stone,147
That trembled with a many-colour’d light ;148
And there with two caged ringdoves she did play,149
And feed them carefully from day to day.150
Her bed with silken curtains was enclosed,151
White as the snowy rose of Guelderland ;152
On Turkish pillows her young head reposed,153
And love had gather’d with a careful hand154
Fair playthings to the little maiden’s side,155
From distant ports, and cities parted wide.156
She had two myrtle plants that she did tend,157
And think all trees were like to them that grew :158
For things on land she did confuse and blend,159
And chiefly from the deck the land she knew,160
And in her heart she pitied more and more161
The steadfast dwellers on the changeless shore.162
Green fields and inland meadows faded out163
Of mind, or with sea images were link’d ;164
And yet she had her childish thoughts about165
The country she had left—though indistinct166
And faint as mist the mountain-head that shrouds,167
Or dim through distance as Magellan’s clouds.168
And when to frame a forest scene she tried,169
The ever-present sea would yet intrude,170
And all her towns were by the water’s side,171
It murmur’d in all moorland solitude,172
Where rocks and the ribb’d sand would intervene,173
And waves would edge her fancied village green ;174
Because her heart was like an ocean shell,175
That holds (men say) a message from the deep ;176
And yet the land was strong, she knew its spell,177
And harbour lights could draw her in her sleep ;178
And minster chimes from piercèd towers that swim,179
Were the land-angels making God a hymn.180
So she grew on, the idol of one heart,181
And the delight of many—and her face,182
Thus dwelling chiefly from her sex apart,183
Was touch’d with a most deep and tender grace184
A look that never aught but nature gave,185
Artless, yet thoughtful ;  innocent, yet grave.186
Strange her adornings were, and strangely blent :187
A golden net confined her nut-brown hair ;188
Quaint were the robes that divers lands had lent,189
And quaint her aged nurse’s skill and care ;190
Yet did they well on the sea-maiden meet,191
Circle her neck, and grace her dimpled feet.192
The sailor folk were glad because of her,193
And deem’d good fortune follow’d in her wake ;194
She was their guardian saint, they did aver—.195
Prosperous winds were sent them for her sake ;196
And strange rough vows, strange prayers, they nightly
While, storm or calm, she slept, in nought afraid.198
Clear were her eyes, that daughter of the sea,199
Sweet, when uplifted to her aged nurse,200
She sat, and communed what the world could be ;201
And rambling stories caused her to rehearse202
How Yule was kept, how maidens toss’d the hay,203
And how bells rang upon a wedding day.204
But they grew brighter when the evening star205
First trembled over the still glowing wave,206
That bathed in ruddy light, mast, sail, and spar ;207
For then, reclined in rest that twilight gave,208
With him who served for father, friend, and guide,209
She sat upon the deck at eventide.210
Then turn’d towards the west, that on her hair211
And her young cheek shed down its tender glow,212
He taught her many things with earnest care213
That he thought fitting a young maid should know,214
Told of the good deeds of the worthy dead,215
And prayers devout, by faithful martyrs said.216
And many psalms he caused her to repeat217
And sing them, at his knees reclined the while,218
And spoke with her of all things good and meet,219
And told the story of her native isle,220
Till at the end he made her tears to flow,221
Rehearsing of his royal master’s woe.222
And of the stars he taught her, and their names,223
And how the chartless mariner they guide ;224
Of quivering light that in the zenith flames,225
Of monsters in the deep sea caves that hide ;226
Then changed the theme to fairy records wild,227
Enchanted moor, elf dame, or changeling child.228
To her the Eastern lands their strangeness spread,229
The dark-faced Arab in his long blue gown,230
The camel thrusting down a snake-like head231
To browse on thorns outside a wall’d white town,232
Where palmy clusters rank by rank upright233
Float as in quivering lakes of ribbèd light.234
And when the ship sat like a broad-wing’d bird235
Becalm’d, lo, lions answer’d in the night236
Their fellows, all the hollow dark was stirr’d237
To echo on that tremulous thunder’s flight,238
Dying in weird faint moans ;— till look !  the sun239
And night, and all the things of night, were done.240
And they, toward the waste as morning brake,241
Turn’d, where, inisled in his green water’d land,242
The Libyan Zeus lay couch’d of old, and spake,243
Hemm’d in with leagues of furrow-facèd sand244
Then saw the moon (like Joseph’s golden cup245
Come back) behind some ruin’d roof swim up.246
But blooming childhood will not always last,247
And storms will rise e’en on the tideless sea ;248
His guardian love took fright, she grew so fast,249
And he began to think how sad ’twould be250
If he should die, and pirate hordes should get251
By sword or shipwreck his fair Margaret.252
It was a sudden thought ;  but he gave way,253
For it assail’d him with unwonted force ;254
And with no more than one short week’s delay,255
For English shores he shaped the vessel’s course ;256
And ten years absent saw her landed now,257
With thirteen summers on her maiden brow.258
And so he journey’d with her, far inland,259
Down quiet lanes, by hedges hemm’d with dew,260
Where wonders met her eye on every hand,261
And all was beautiful and strange and new262
All, from the forest trees in stately ranks,263
To yellow cowslips trembling on the banks.264
All new—the long-drawn slope of evening shades,265
The sweet solemnities of waxing light,266
The white-hair’d boys, the blushing rustic maids,267
The ruddy gleam through cottage casements bright,268
The green of pastures, bloom of garden nooks,269
And endless bubbling of the water-brooks.270
So far he took them on through this green land,271
The maiden and her nurse, till journeying272
They saw at last a peaceful city stand273
On a steep mount, and heard its clear bells ring.274
High were the towers and rich with ancient state,275
In its old wall enclosed and massive gate.276
There dwelt a worthy matron whom he knew,277
To whom in time of war he gave good aid,278
Shielding her household from the plundering crew279
When neither law could bind nor worth persuade :280
And to her house he brought his care and pride,281
Aweary with the way and sleepy-eyed.282
And he, the man whom she was fain to serve,283
Delay’d not shortly his request to make,284
Which was, if aught of her he did deserve,285
To take the maid, and rear her for his sake,286
To guard her youth, and let her breeding be287
In womanly reserve and modesty.288
And that same night into the house he brought289
The costly fruits of all his voyages290
Rich Indian gems of wandering craftsmen wrought,291
Long ropes of pearls from Persian palaces,292
With ingots pure and coins of Venice mould,293
And silver bars and bags of Spanish gold ;294
And costly merchandise of far-off lands,295
And golden stuffs and shawls of Eastern dye,296
He gave them over to the matron’s hands,297
With jewell’d gauds, and toys of ivory,298
To be her dower on whom his love was set,—299
His dearest child, fair, Madam Margaret.300
Then he entreated, that if he should die,301
She would not cease her guardian mission mild,302
Awhile, as undecided, linger’d nigh,—303
Beside the pillow of the sleeping child,304
Sever’d one wandering lock of wavy hair,305
Took horse that night, and left her unaware.306
And it was long before he came again307
So long that Margaret was woman grown ;308
And oft she wish’d for his return in vain,309
Calling him softly in an undertone ;310
Repeating words that he had said the while,311
And striving to recall his look and smile.312
If she had known—oh, if she could have known313
The toils, the hardships of those absent years314
How bitter thraldom forced the unwilling groan315
How slavery wrung out subduing tears,316
Not calmly had she pass’d her hours away,317
Chiding half pettishly the long delay.318
But she was spared. She knew no sense of harm,319
While the red flames ascended from the deck ;320
Saw not the pirate band the crew disarm,321
Mourn’d not the floating spars, the smoking wreck322
She did not dream, and there was none to tell ;323
That fetters bound the hands she loved so well !324
Sweet Margaret—withdrawn from human view,325
She spent long hours beneath the cedar shade,326
The stately trees that in the garden grew,327
And overtwined, a towering shelter made ;328
She mused among the flowers, and birds, and bees,329
In winding walks, and bowering canopies.330
Or wander’d slowly through the ancient rooms,331
Where oriel windows shed their rainbow gleams,332
And tapestried hangings wrought in Flemish looms,333
Display’d the story of King Pharaoh’s dreams ;334
And, come at noon because the well was deep,335
Beautiful Rachel leading down her sheep.336
At last she reach’d the bloom of womanhood,337
After five summers spent in growing fair ;338
Her face betoken’d all things dear and good,339
The light of somewhat yet to come was there340
Asleep and waiting for the opening day,341
When childish thoughts, like flowers, would drift
O !  we are far too happy while they last ;343
We have our good things first and they cost
nought ;
Then the new splendour comes unfathom’d, vast,345
A costly trouble, ay, a sumptuous thought ;346
And will not wait, and cannot be possess’d,347
Though infinite yearnings fold it to the breast.348
And time, that seem’d so long, is fleeting by,349
And life is more than life; love more than love ;350
We have not found the whole—and we must die351
And still the unclasp’d glory floats above.352
The inmost and the utmost faint from sight,353
For ever secret in their veil of light.354
Be not too hasty in your flow, you rhymes,355
For Margaret is in her garden bower ;356
Delay to ring, you soft cathedral chimes,357
And tell not out too soon the noontide hour ;358
For one draws nearer to your ancient town,359
On the green mount down settled like a crown :360
He journey’d on, and as he near’d the gate,361
He met with one to whom he named the maid,362
Inquiring of her welfare, and her state,363
And of the matron in whose house she stay’d.364
The maiden dwelt there yet,” the townsman said ;365
But, for the ancient lady,—she was dead.”366
He further said, she was but little known,367
Although reputed to be very fair,368
And little seen (so much she dwelt alone)369
But with her nurse at stated morning prayer ;370
So seldom pass’d her sheltering garden wall,371
Or left the gate at quiet evening fall.372
Flow softly, rhymes—his hand is on the door ;373
Ring out, ye noonday bells, his welcoming374
He went out rich, but he returneth poor ;”375
And strong—now something bow’d with suffering.376
And on his brow are traced long furrow’d lines,377
Earn’d in’the fight with pirate Algerines.—378
Her aged nurse comes hobbling at his call ;379
Lifts up her wither’d hand in dull surprise,380
And, tottering, leads him through the pillar’d hall ;381
What ! come at last to bless my lady’s eyes !382
Dear heart, sweet heart, she’s grown a likesome
Go, seek her where she sitteth in the shade.”384
The noonday chime had ceased—she did not know385
Who watch’d her, while her ringdoves flutter’d
near ;
While, under the green boughs in accents low,387
She sang unto herself. She did not hear388
His footstep till she turn’d, then rose to meet389
Her guest with guileless blush and wonder sweet.390
But soon she knew him, came with quicken’d pace,391
And put her gentle hands about his neck ;392
And lean’d her fair cheek to his sun-burn’d face,393
As long ago upon the vessel’s deck :394
As long ago she did in twilight deep,395
When heaving waters lull’d her infant sleep.396
So then he kiss’d her, as men kiss their own,397
And proudly parting her unbraided hair,398
He said : “ I did not think to see thee grown399
So fair a woman,”—but a touch of care400
The deep-toned voice through its caressing kept,401
And, hearing it, she turn’d away and wept.402
Wept,—for an impress on the face she view’d403
The stamp of feelings she remember’d not ;404
His voice was calmer now, but more subdued,405
Not like the voice long loved and unforgot !406
She felt strange sorrow and delightful pain407
Grief for the change, joy that he came again.408
O pleasant days, that follow’d his return,409
That made his captive years pass out of mind ;410
If life had yet new pains for him to learn,411
Not in the maid’s clear eyes he saw it shrined ;412
And three full weeks he stay’d with her, content413
To find her beautiful and innocent.414
It was all one in his contented sight415
As though she were a child, till suddenly416
Waked of the chimes in the dead time of the night417
He fell to thinking how the urgency418
Of Fate had dealt with him, and could but sigh419
For those best things wherein she pass’d him by.420
Down the long river of life how cast adrift,421
She urged him on, still on, to sink or swim ;422
And all at once, as if a veil did lift,423
In the dead time of the night, and bare to him,424
The want in his deep soul, ke look’d, was dumb,425
And knew himself, and knew his time was come.426
In the dead time of the night his soul did sound427
The dark sea of a trouble unforeseen,428
For that one sweet that to his life was bound429
Had turn’d into a want—a misery keen :430
Was born, was grown, and wounded sorely cried431
All ’twixt the midnight and the morning tide.432
He was a brave man, and he took this thing433
And cast it from him with a man’s strong hand ;434
And that next morn, with no sweet altering435
Of mien, beside the maid he took his stand,436
And copied his past self till ebbing day437
Paled its deep western blush, and died away.438
And then he told her that he must depart439
Upon the morrow, with the earliest light ;440
And it displeased and pain’d her at the heart,441
And she went out to hide her from his sight442
Aneath the cedar trees, where dusk was deep,443
And be apart from him awhile to weep444
And to lament, till, suddenly aware445
Of steps, she started up as fain to flee,446
And met him in the moonlight pacing there,447
Who question’d with her why her tears might be,448
Till she did answer him, all red for shame,449
Kind sir, I weep—the wanting of a name.”450
A name !” quoth he, and sigh’d.  “ I never knew451
Thy father’s name ;  but many a stalwart youth452
Would give thee his, dear child, and his love ton,453
And count himself a happy man forsooth.454
Is there none here who thy kind thought hath won ?”455
But she did falter, and made answer, “ None.”456
Then, as in father-like and kindly mood,457
He said,   Dear daughter, it would please me well458
To see thee wed ; for know it is not good459
That a fair woman thus alone should dwell.460
She said, “ I am content it should be so,461
If when you journey I may with you go.”462
This when he heard, he thought, right sick at heart,463
Must I withstand myself, and also thee ?464
Thou, also thou !  must nobly do thy part :465
That honour leads thee on which holds back me.466
No, thou sweet woman, by love’s great increase,467
I will reject thee for thy truer peace.468
Then said he, “ Lady !— look upon my face ;469
Consider well this scar upon my brow ;470
I have had all misfortune but disgrace ;471
I do not look for marriage blessings now.472
Be not thy gratitude deceived. I know473
Thou think’st it is thy duty—I will go !474
I read thy meaning, and I go from hence,475
Skill’d in the reason, though my heart be rude,476
I will not wrong thy gentle innocence,477
Nor take advantage of thy gratitude.478
But think while yet the light these eyes shall bless479
The more for thee—of woman’s nobleness.”480
Faultless and fair, all in the moony light,481
As one ashamed, she look’d upon the ground,482
And her white raiment glisten’d in his sight.483
And, hark !  the vesper chimes began to sound,484
Then lower yet she droop’d her young, pure cheek,485
And still was she ashamed, and could not speak.486
A swarm of bells from that old tower o’erhead,487
They sent their message sifting through the boughs488
Of cedars ;  when they ceased his lady said,489
Pray you forgive me,” and her lovely brows490
She lifted, standing in her moonlit place,491
And one short moment look’d him in the face.492
Then straight he cried, “ O sweetheart, think all one493
As no word yet were said between us twain,494
And know thou that in this I yield to none495
I love thee, sweetheart, love thee !”  So full fain,496
While she did leave to silence all her part,497
He took the gleaming whiteness to his heart498
The white-robed maiden with the warm white throat,499
The sweet white brow, and locks of umber flow,500
Whose murmuring voice was soft as rock-dove’s note,501
Entreating him, and saying, “ Do not go !”502
I will not, sweetheart; nay, not now,” quoth he,503
By faith and troth, I think thou art for me !”504
And so she won a name that eventide,505
Which he gave gladly, but would ne’er bespeak,506
And she became the rough sea-captain’s bride,507
Matching her dimples to his sunburnt cheek ;508
And chasing from his voice the touch of care,509
That made her weep when first she heard it there.510
One year there was, fulfill’d of happiness,511
But O ! it went so fast, too fast away.512
Then came that trouble which full oft doth bless513
It was the evening of a sultry day,514
There was no wind the thread-hung flowers to stir,515
Or float abroad the filmy gossamer.516
Toward the trees his steps the mariner bent,517
Pacing the grassy walks with restless feet :518
And he recall’d, and ponder’d as he went,519
All her most duteous love and converse sweet,520
Till summer darkness settled deep and dim,521
And dew from bending leaves dropt down on him.522
The flowers sent forth their nightly odours faint523
Thick leaves shut out the starlight overhead ;524
While he told over, as by strong constraint525
Drawn on, her childish life on shipboard led,526
And beauteous youth, since first low kneeling there,527
With folded hands she lisp’d her evening prayer.528
Then he remember’d how, beneath the shade,529
She woo’d him to her with her lovely words,530
While flowers were closing, leaves in moonlight
And in dark nooks withdrew the silent birds.532
So ponder’d he that night in twilight dim,533
While dew from bending leaves dropt down on him.534
The flowers sent forth their nightly odours faint535
When, in the darkness waiting, he saw one536
To whom he said— “ How fareth my sweet saint ? ”537
Who answer’d— “ She hath borne to you a son ; ”538
Then, turning, left him,—and the father said,539
God rain down blessings on his welcome head ! ”540
But Margaret !— she never saw the child,541
Nor heard about her bed love’s mournful wails ;542
But to the last, with ocean dreams beguiled,543
Murmur’d of troubled seas and swelling sails544
Of weary voyages, and rocks unseen,545
And distant hills in sight, all calm and green. . . .546
Woe and alas !—the times of sorrow come,547
And make us doubt if we were ever glad !548
So utterly that inner voice is dumb,549
Whose music through our happy days we had !550
So, at the touch of grief, without our will,551
The sweet voice drops from us, and all is still.552
Woe and alas ! for the sea-captain’s wife553
That Margaret who in the Xebec play’d554
She spent upon his knee her baby life ;555
Her slumbering head upon his breast she laid.556
How shall he learn alone his years to pass ?557
How in the empty house ?— woe and alas !558
She died, and in the aisle, the minster aisle,559
They made her grave ;  and there, with fond intent,560
Her husband raised, his sorrow to beguile,561
A very fair and stately monument,562
Her tomb (the careless vergers show it yet),563
The mariner’s wife, his love, his Margaret.564
A woman’s figure, with the eyelids closed,565
The quiet head declined in slumber sweet ;566
Upon an anchor one fair hand reposed,567
And a long ensign folded at her feet,568
And carved upon the bordering of her vest569
The motto of her house— “ He giveth rest.”570
There is an ancient window richly fraught.571
And fretted with all hues most rich, most bright,572
And in its upper tracery enwrought573
An olive-branch and dove wide-wing’d and white,574
An emblem meet for her, the tender dove,575
Her heavenly peace, her duteous earthly love.576
Amid heraldic shields and banners set,577
In twisted knots and wildly-tangled bands,578
Crimson and green, and gold and violet,579
Fall softly on the snowy sculptured hands ;580
And when the sunshine comes, full sweetly rest581
The dove and olive-branch upon her breast.582
Symmetrical vegetal tailpiece in a rectangular shape. 1/32 page.