Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 56, Number 349, November, 1844

"'But my lover will not prize
All the glory that he rides in,
When he gazes in my face!
He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes
Build the shrine my soul abides in;
And I kneel here for thy grace.'

"'Then, ay, then – he shall kneel low —
With the red-roan steed anear him
Which shall seem to understand —
Till I answer, "Rise, and go!
For the world must love and fear him
Whom I gift with heart and hand."

"'Then he will arise so pale,
I shall feel my own lips tremble
With a yes I must not say —
Nathless, maiden-brave, "Farewell,"
I will utter and dissemble —
"Light to-morrow, with to-day."

"'Then he will ride through the hills,
To the wide world past the river,
There to put away all wrong!
To make straight distorted wills, —
And to empty the broad quiver
Which the wicked bear along.

"'Three times shall a young foot-page
Swim the stream, and climb the mountain,
And kneel down beside my feet —
"Lo! my master sends this gage,
Lady, for thy pity's counting!
What wilt thou exchange for it?"

"'And the first time, I will send
A white rosebud for a guerdon, —
And the second time, a glove!
But the third time – I may bend
From my pride, and answer – "Pardon,
If he comes to take my love."

"'Then the young foot-page will run,
Then my lover will ride faster,
Till he kneeleth at my knee!
"I am a duke's eldest son!
Thousand serfs do call me master, —
But, O Love, I love but thee!"

"'He will kiss me on the mouth
Then, and lead me as a lover,
Through the crowds that praise his deeds!
And when soul-tied by one troth,
Unto him I will discover
That swan's nest among the reeds.'

"Little Ellie, with her smile
Not yet ended, rose up gaily, —
Tied the bonnet, donn'd the shoe —
And went homeward, round a mile,
Just to see, as she did daily,
What more eggs were with the two.

"Pushing through the elm-tree copse
Winding by the stream, light-hearted,
Where the osier pathway leads —
Past the boughs she stoops – and stops!
Lo! the wild swan had deserted —
And a rat had gnaw'd the reeds.

"Ellie went home sad and slow!
If she found the lover ever,
With his red-roan steed of steeds,
Sooth I know not! but I know
She could show him never – never,
That swan's nest among the reeds!"

But the gem of the collection is unquestionably the poem entitled "Bertha in the Lane." This is the purest picture of a broken heart that ever drew tears from the eyes of woman or of man. Although our extracts are likely to exceed the proportion which they ought to bear to our critical commentary, we must be permitted to quote this poem entire. A grain of such poetry is worth a cart-load of criticism: —

Bertha in the Lane

"Put the broidery-frame away,
For my sewing is all done!
The last thread is used to-day,
And I need not join it on.
Though the clock stands at the noon,
I am weary! I have sewn
Sweet, for thee, a wedding-gown.

"Sister, help me to the bed,
And stand near me, dearest-sweet,
Do not shrink nor be afraid,
Blushing with a sudden heat!
No one standeth in the street? —
By God's love I go to meet,
Love I thee with love complete.

"Lean thy face down! drop it in
These two hands, that I may hold
'Twixt their palms thy cheek and chin,