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Blooms of the Berry
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Sit in jesses green of silk, —
From bannered Miraflores.
II
The laughing earth is young with dew;
The deeps above are violet blue;
And in the East a cloud or two
Empearled with airy glories:
And with laughter, jest and singing,
Silver bells of falcons ringing,
Hawkers, rosy with the dawn,
Gayly ride o'er hill and lawn
From courtly Miraflores.
III
The torrents silver down the crags;
Down dim-green vistas browse the stags;
And from wet beds of reeds and flags
The frightened lapwing hurries;
And the brawny wild-boar peereth
At the cavalcade that neareth;
Oft his shaggy-throated grunt
Brings the king and court to hunt
At royal Miraflores.
IV
The May itself in soft sea-green
Is Oriana, Spring's high queen,
And Amadis beside her seen
Some prince of Fairy stones:
Where her castle's ivied towers
Drowse above her budded bowers,
Flaps the heron thro' the sky,
And the wild swan gives a cry
By woody Miraflores.
LA BEALE ISOUD
I
With bloodshot eyes the morning rose
Upon a world of gloom and tears;
A kindred glance queen Isoud shows —
Come night, come morn, cease not her fears.
The fog-clouds whiten all the vale,
The sunlight draws them to its love;
The diamond dews wash ev'ry dale,
Where bays the hunt within the grove.
Her lute – the one her touch he taught
To wake beneath the stars a song
Of swan-caught music – is as naught
And on yon damask lounge is flung.
Down o'er her cheeks her hair she draws
In golden rays 'twixt lily tips,
And gazes sad on gloomy shaws
'Neath which had often touched their lips.
II
With irised eyes, from morn to noon.
And noon to middle night she stoops
From her high lattice 'neath the moon,
Hoping to see him 'mid the groups
Of mail-swathed braves come jingling by.
And once there came a dame in weft
All pearl besprent, as when the sky
A springtide day hath wept and left
A stormy eve one flash of gems.
"'Mid neatherds he's a naked waif
Unwitted," said she, lipping scorn:
And shook deep curls with a weak laugh
Tib clinked the gold thick in them worn.
III
"How long to wait!" and far she bent
From her tall casement toward the lawn;
A prospect of a wide extent
Glassed in her eyes and hateful shown.
Along the white lake windy crags
Blue with coarse brakes and ragged pines;
A bandit keep with trembling flags;
And barren scars, and waste marsh lines,
And now a palfried dame and knight.
Deep deer-behaunted forests old,
Whose sinewy boughs dark blocked the cave
Of Heav'n o'er Earth; a blasted hold
'Mid livid fields; a torrent's wave.
And o'er the bridge whose marble arched
The torrent's foam, dim in the dew
Of morning, one all glimmering marched
In glittering steel from helm to shoe,
With lance whose fang smote back the dawn.
IV
Selled on a barb whose trappings shone
From bannered Miraflores.
II
The laughing earth is young with dew;
The deeps above are violet blue;
And in the East a cloud or two
Empearled with airy glories:
And with laughter, jest and singing,
Silver bells of falcons ringing,
Hawkers, rosy with the dawn,
Gayly ride o'er hill and lawn
From courtly Miraflores.
III
The torrents silver down the crags;
Down dim-green vistas browse the stags;
And from wet beds of reeds and flags
The frightened lapwing hurries;
And the brawny wild-boar peereth
At the cavalcade that neareth;
Oft his shaggy-throated grunt
Brings the king and court to hunt
At royal Miraflores.
IV
The May itself in soft sea-green
Is Oriana, Spring's high queen,
And Amadis beside her seen
Some prince of Fairy stones:
Where her castle's ivied towers
Drowse above her budded bowers,
Flaps the heron thro' the sky,
And the wild swan gives a cry
By woody Miraflores.
LA BEALE ISOUD
I
With bloodshot eyes the morning rose
Upon a world of gloom and tears;
A kindred glance queen Isoud shows —
Come night, come morn, cease not her fears.
The fog-clouds whiten all the vale,
The sunlight draws them to its love;
The diamond dews wash ev'ry dale,
Where bays the hunt within the grove.
Her lute – the one her touch he taught
To wake beneath the stars a song
Of swan-caught music – is as naught
And on yon damask lounge is flung.
Down o'er her cheeks her hair she draws
In golden rays 'twixt lily tips,
And gazes sad on gloomy shaws
'Neath which had often touched their lips.
II
With irised eyes, from morn to noon.
And noon to middle night she stoops
From her high lattice 'neath the moon,
Hoping to see him 'mid the groups
Of mail-swathed braves come jingling by.
And once there came a dame in weft
All pearl besprent, as when the sky
A springtide day hath wept and left
A stormy eve one flash of gems.
"'Mid neatherds he's a naked waif
Unwitted," said she, lipping scorn:
And shook deep curls with a weak laugh
Tib clinked the gold thick in them worn.
III
"How long to wait!" and far she bent
From her tall casement toward the lawn;
A prospect of a wide extent
Glassed in her eyes and hateful shown.
Along the white lake windy crags
Blue with coarse brakes and ragged pines;
A bandit keep with trembling flags;
And barren scars, and waste marsh lines,
And now a palfried dame and knight.
Deep deer-behaunted forests old,
Whose sinewy boughs dark blocked the cave
Of Heav'n o'er Earth; a blasted hold
'Mid livid fields; a torrent's wave.
And o'er the bridge whose marble arched
The torrent's foam, dim in the dew
Of morning, one all glimmering marched
In glittering steel from helm to shoe,
With lance whose fang smote back the dawn.
IV
Selled on a barb whose trappings shone
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