Looked down, enchanting Garonnelle,

Thy wild and mulberry-shaded dell,
Round which the Alps of Piedmont rose,
The blush of sunset on their snows:
While, blithe as lark on summer-morn,
When green and yellow waves the corn,
When harebells blow in every grove,

And thrushes sing "I love! I love!"
Within (so soon the early rain
Scatters, and 'tis fair again;

Though many a drop may yet be seen

To tell us where a cloud has been)
Within lay Frederic, o'er and o'er

Building castles on the floor,

And feigning, as they grew in size,

New troubles and new dangers;

150

With dimpled cheeks and laughing eyes,
As he and Fear were strangers.

St. Pierre sate by, nor saw nor smiled.
His eyes were on his lov'd Montaigne;
But every leaf was turned in vain.
Then in that hour remorse he felt,

And his heart told him he had dealt

Unkindly with his child.

A father may awhile refuse;

But who can for another chuse?

When her young blushes had revealed

The secret from herself concealed,

Why promise what her tears denied,

That she should be De Courcy's bride?

-Wouldst thou, presumptuous as thou art,

O'er Nature play the tyrant's part,

160

170

And with the hand compel the heart?

Oh rather, rather hope to bind

The ocean-wave, the mountain-wind;

Or fix thy foot upon the ground

To stop the planet rolling round.

The light was on his face; and there

You might have seen the passions driv'n—
Resentment, Pity, Hope, Despair—

Like clouds across the face of Heav'n.

Now he sighed heavily; and now,

His hand withdrawing from his brow,

He shut the volume with a frown,

To walk his troubled spirit down:

-When Manchon, that had snuffed the ground,

And sought and sought, but never found,

180

Leapt up and to the casement flew,

And looked and barked and vanished thro'.

" "Tis Jacqueline! 'tis Jacqueline!"

190

Her little brother laughing cried.

"I know her by her kirtle green,

"She comes along the mountain-side; "Now turning by the traveller's seat,"Now resting in the hermit's cave,

"Now kneeling, where the pathways meet,

"To the cross on the stranger's grave.

And, by the soldier's cloak, I know

"(There, there along the ridge they go)

D'Arcy, the gentle and the brave!

"Look up-why will you not?" he cries, His rosy hands before his eyes;

200

For on that incense-breathing eve

The sun shone out, as loth to leave.

"See to the rugged rock she clings!

"She calls, she faints, and D'Arcy springs;

"D'Arcy so dear to us, to all;

"Who, for you told me on your knee,

"When in the fight he saw you fall,

"Saved you for Jacqueline and me!"

210

And true it was! The mournful night
That on the village-green they parted,
The lilied banners streaming bright
O'er maids and mothers broken-hearted;
The drum-it drowned the last adieu,

When D'Arcy from the crowd she drew.
"One charge I have, and one alone,

" Nor that refuse to take,