Eidolon, or The Course of a Soul Part 7

Slowly he came, reading with anxious eyes The thoughts that flicker'd on Alceste's mien, Veiling dishonour under Virtue's guise, And avarice as though 'twere sorrow keen; And still 'mid tears, and groans, and piping sighs, He querulled forth his plaints the s.p.a.ce between, "Must thy poor father beg so near the grave, "Be not so cruel--O! my daughter--save!"

XXVII.

"Sir!" softly said she, while the colour fled From her smooth cheeks till they grew ashy pale, "Cast off your mourning features--I will wed "Though Death should be the bridegroom, and not quail; "The sorrows of our house be on my head; "What though a woman's--'tis no novel tale,-- "Within her _weakness_ does my comfort lie, "For if the storm be sore, the _flower_ will die.

XXVIII.

"Think not, sir," she said on with n.o.ble scorn, "This husband of your choosing loses aught "In that the world doth know him basely born, "And with a shrine that fits the inner thought; "Think not a silly woman's heart will mourn "A shape in Nature's merry moments wrought, "Or weep the finding of each broad defect, "Or wish the form less wry or more erect.

XXIX.

"No! sir! each twisted joint will be my pride, "The blazon of my fortunes to the crowd, "Till envy shall pursue the happy bride "Sworn to a lord with graces so endowed; "And fame shall bear his virtues far and wide, "And trumpet them unto the world aloud; "Then let them say--'Ah! she is over-bought; "'He is a jewel rare, and she is naught'!

x.x.x.

"But, sir, although I would not have men hold "My love won by his merits or his charms, "This tongue shall ne'er the bitter truth unfold, "Though falsehood soil me with its sneering harms; "'Tis meet to _you_ the secret should be told, "But henceforth a stern law my grief disarms; "Pray heaven, sir, that your conscience may be dumb, "And his, as my lips for the time to come!"

x.x.xI.

Thus far her woman's indignation ran, Roused into conflict by the cruel wrong, Standing erect before that crouching man, Weak in his shame--she in her virtue strong; Whilst on her quivering lips and cheeks so wan, Reproach and scorn alternate coursed along-- But to her heart the silence went, and then She swept past in her gentleness again,

x.x.xII.

The tresses rustling on her neck, and she A woman meek and tender as a dove, Yet to her full heart stricken utterly; And as she went, her moist eyes turn'd above, Sighing, "Poor Julian, heaven have care of thee, "And grant thee mercy for thy hapless love!"

She said no more, but 'twas a piteous thing To see a helpless maid so sorrowing.

x.x.xIII.

She wept her tears full out, for on the day That was to make her bride, the lids were bare; And such cold sternness on her lips did stay, It seemed as though a smile had ne'er been there.

They clad her graceful form in white array, And twined sweet blossoms with her golden hair, And made her lovely who must still be so E'en 'mid despair, and tears, and cruel woe.

x.x.xIV.

He darken'd by her side with honied smile, And fawning courtesy, and limping stride, Showing to those who knew the heart, more vile The baseness that his gilding sought to hide; But she went on unmoved, and stood the while Still as a marble statue at his side; Certes, a terror o'er the spirit crept, It had been mercy had the lady wept.

x.x.xV.

Julian heard it, and with pa.s.sion burning Sped he to Florence--to the spoiler's den, Knock'd at the portals, and the lacqueys spurning, Rush'd into presence of the guilty men, Father and husband from the church returning, Alceste standing by them--paler then, She thrill'd as though she would have fled to him, Then calm'd again to stone in every limb.

x.x.xVI.

He said--"Alceste!"--he said nothing more, But gazed a s.p.a.ce into her melting eyes So woefully, her poor heart flutter'd sore, Like a caged lark that thrills to mount the skies.

He said, "Is this the bliss we pictured o'er?

"Is this the rapture, this the Paradise?

"O perjured vows! O cruel love!" he said, "Thus at a blow to strike hope's spirit dead."

x.x.xVII.

He said, "Shame on a venal love like thine, "That barters truth for every gilded toy; "Shame on the heart that kneels at mammon's shrine, "There calmly immolates another's joy; "Shame on the tongue that breathes in tones divine "Sweet vows, that on the fond soul never cloy, "Then with their echoes faded scarce away, "The victim of their magic can betray!"

x.x.xVIII.

"Shame on thee, false Alceste, most of all; "Shame on thy gentle face, so frank and fair; "Shame on thy tender eyes, whose light did fall "Softly upon the soul, like blessings there; "Shame on thy voice, so low and musical; "Shame on the cl.u.s.ters of thy golden hair; "Shame on them that make thee so bright and sweet, "Yet but an angel-temple for deceit!"

x.x.xIX.

She stood stone still, and answer'd ne'er a word, Though sore the taunts went stabbing through her breast; But her heart beat till it could nigh be heard, Amid the silence of her breath supprest, And through her frame a fitful tremor stirr'd, Like a bowed willow trembling in its rest.

And then he turn'd him to the speechless twain, With looks of bitter anger and disdain.

XL.

"Sirs! Ye are n.o.ble warriors in good sooth, "With bearing worthy of so fair a cause; "Spoilers of love, and constancy, and truth, "And laurelled by a sordid world's applause!

"Curses upon ye and your gilded ruth, "Whom pity nor remorse could ever pause; "Curses upon ye, deep as your own shame, "Deep as your fiendish hearts themselves could frame."

XLI.

Again he turned to her with softened feeling, "Dear shattered idol of this heart" he cried, "I cannot curse _thee_, e'en thou art sealing "The cruel doom that bans me from thy side.

"No! No! a blessing from my soul is stealing, "Nerved by a power that will not be denied, "So be thou blessed, charm'd against all evil, "An angel still, though wedded to a devil."

XLII.

She answer'd ne'er a word, but stood stone still, Fetter'd as 'twere within some horrid trance, Alive to torture and to deadly ill, Yet powerless of a word, a sigh, a glance; But when he fled at last, a mortal thrill Shot cold and icy through her like a lance, And down she swoon'd, without a word or tear; It made those guilty men grow pale with fear.

XLIII.

They bore her, stirless, to her snowy nest, Stirless, they laid her there as cold as lead, All in her stainless bridal garments drest, With fragrant blossoms circled round her head.

They laid their hands upon her dewy breast, And trembled back as those who touch the dead; They wiped the dew from off her clammy brow, And shudder'd, 'twas so cold and pa.s.sive now.

XLIV.

Vainly they pierced the fair and rounded arm, No crimson stream gush'd o'er its spotless snow; Vainly they sought the frozen heart to warm, And bid its chill'd and torpid currents flow; Vainly they practised every learned charm To call into the veins life's ruddy glow; Stirless, they laid her on that bridal bed, Stirless, she lay, all life and motion fled.