Rowena & Harold A Romance in Rhyme of an Olden Time, of Hastyngs and Normanhurst — Inside the Classic

That were to do a deed he e'er must rue; Unfit it for a place in his Walhalla there.

No, better far to don the holy cross, As valiant knight became; Then if he fell, He would at least have saved his honoured name; Could say with life's last flitting breath--"'Tis well, For so to live or die, to me were gain, not loss."

Yet spite of all, one parting word and kiss, From dear Rowena's lips.-- May be the last! God knows. That when his life felt death's eclipse, Her angel-presence would its brightness cast And dissipate its gloom. O thus to die were bliss!

But how and where they twain could meet unseen, Unknown! Love found the way, The place, the hour. Rowena with her page was wont to stray Along the topmost cliffs. Here was a bower Hemmed in by rocks, where once an eagle's nest had been.

By Eric's loyal hand a note was brought. Sir Harold scarce could bear To break the seal. "To-night at nine, be at the eagle's lair; Let Eric guide. Yours, aye, come woe, come weal." Too slowly moved the hours with love's dear issues fraught.

They met. No eye but Heaven's the secrets knew, That sad, sweet hour betrayed, Their hearts nigh burst 'Twixt hope and fear. Yet now, no more afraid To face the world and say "Yea, do your worst; For aye, come weal, come woe, each will to each be true."

Sir Harold Wynn set sail for Holy Land With Richard, Lion-heart, Peerless, whose fame-- There, if he might, to act a leal knight's part And add fresh lustre to his martial name, Wherewith to move Sir Guy and gain Rowena's hand.

Of Saxon race, Sir Harold Wynn was fair, Noble in mien and gait, Stalwart of frame; In powers of mind and heart a worthy mate For any lady. Few beside could claim Domains so large and rich, as could with his compare.

The first knight's sword hung high in hall, Had healed the feud of race, By val'rous deeds. Beneath it in the same proud resting place, The sons fixed theirs with other warlike meeds, To prove their martial line had known nor break nor fall.

Rowena's Lonely Vigil.

She sought her chamber in yon spectral keep With ivy wreaths now crowned; Whose casket rent By Time's grim hand and strewn by fragments round, Once held a jewel whose rare beauty lent Its light to cheer the sailors toiling on the deep.

Her vestal lamp she nightly trimmed and fed, A beacon light more true Than stars above; For darkness only made the light it threw More bright--bless'd, too, as emblem of her love For those who else might make Hell's caves their last lone bed.

"Hist! Hist!" They'd cry: and straight the plash of oar, And creak of sail were stilled; And every ear Was tent to catch the strains her sweet voice trilled. Avast to gloomy thoughts and boding fear! Alack the day when she should witch their hearts no more!

Sea, sea, Bounding and free, O soothe me to sleep with thy sweet lullaby! As when a child, Sportive and wild, Thy waves and I gamboll'd, thou gem-crested sea!

Sea, sea, Laugh on in glee; How dear to the sailor thy sweet monody! Soul-soothing calm, Soul-healing balm, For hearts beating fondly for hearts on the sea!

Sea, sea, Tempest-lashed sea! O spare in thy fury, smite not angrily Hearts true and brave, Breasting thy wave, Who love as they trust thee, thou beautiful sea!

Sea, sea, Bring back to me One that thou bearest to war's pageantry! Bear him my love, Life-lasting love, For him and him only, then speed him to me!

So sang Rowena, from her turret bower, Her plaintive notes each night, In seamen's ears. Their hearts sank deep. They long had watched her white And care-worn cheeks; but now they knew her fears And wept with her to see the darkling storm-clouds lower.

Meanwhile her red-cross knight was lying prone, Sore wounded, life nigh spent, On Acre's plains. He'd swooned and woke to find him 'neath a tent. With balm a maiden soothed his throbbing veins. No other soul came near save she a maid unknown.

Low whispers could he often hear without. Fresh unctions were applied; His wounds soon healed. Whene'er he groaned swift flew she to his side: At other times the maiden lay concealed. At last she brought the news of Saladin's great rout.

The Saracen Maid's Secret.