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Crawford, Isabella Valancy, 1850-1887

"Old Spookses' Pass, Malcolm's Katie, and other poems"

"
"O wouldst thou know, thou curious knight,
Where Mary's bourne to-night will be?
Since thou has seen such traitor sight,
Beneath the blooming hawthorn tree."
Fair shone the yellow of her locks,
Her cheek and bosom's drifted snow;
She leap'd adown the sharp grey rocks,
She sought the sullen pool below.
The knight his iron vizard rais'd,
He caught young Mary to his heart;
She lifted up her head and gaz'd--
She drew her yellow locks apart.
* * * * *
The roses touch'd her lovely face;
The lilies white did faint and flee;
The knight was chief of Ulnor's race,--
His only true love still was she!


"IN EXCHANGE FOR HIS SOUL!"

Long time one whisper'd in his ear--
"Give me my strong, pure soul; behold
'Tis mine to give what men hold dear--
The treasure of red gold."
"I bribe thee not with crown and throne,
Pale spectres they of kingly pow'r!
I give thee gold--red gold alone
Can crown a king each hour!"
He frown'd, perchance he felt a throe,
Gold-hunger gnawing at his heart--
A passing pang--for, stern and low,
He bade the fiend depart!
Again there came the voice and said:
"Gold for that soul of thine were shame;
Thine be that thing for which have bled
Both Gods and men,--high Fame.
"And in long ages yet to sweep
Their gloom and glory on the day;
When mould'ring kings, forgot, shall sleep
In ashes, dust, and clay:
"Thy name shall, starlike, pulse and burn
On heights most Godlike; and divine,
Immortal bays thy funereal urn
Shall lastingly entwine!"
He sigh'd; perchance he felt the thrill,
The answ'ring pulse to Fame's high call;
But answer made his steadfast will--
"I will not be thy thrall!"
Again there came the voice and cried:
"Dost thou my kingly bribes disdain?
Yet shalt thou barter soul and pride
For things ignobly vain!
"Two shameless eyes--two false, sweet eyes--
A sinful brow of sinless white,
Shall hurl, thy soul from high clear skies
To ME, and Stygian night.


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